


Fitting

by swtalmnd



Series: Tea and Knitting [5]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alexander McQueen - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bespoke Suits, Established Relationship, Knitting, M/M, Romance, Suit Porn, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-09 13:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12888474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: One year after the first cup of tea, Eames gives Arthur an anniversary gift -- bespoke suits at Alexander McQueen.There's food porn + suit porn + more knitting, and a complete lack of plot (or porn-porn, lol). Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP, Merry Christmas?
> 
> There's 14 chapters written and 2-4 to go before it's done. The wonderful kate_the_reader has been keeping me edited as I go, though, so hopefully by the time I get all of the ready stuff posted, the rest will be all done and dusted.
> 
> PLEASE do NOT add any of my fic to GoodReads! What the actual fuck are you thinking?!?!?!?!?

On the one-year anniversary of Eames' very first pot at Specificity, he came in the front door and stood in line like any other customer, as was his habit even now that he and Arthur shared the flat upstairs. Arthur spotted him and flashed a dimple before schooling his face and going back to taking the order of the woman at the head of the line. Arthur was efficient as usual, and it wasn't long before Eames was up at the familiar counter.

"What can I get for you today?" asked Arthur, one dimple peeking out, and then the other joining it.

"Aside from yourself, darling, and a hello kiss? I'd like something celebratory," said Eames. He wondered if Arthur had connected the dates, or if he was holding onto some other day for their anniversary.

"Perhaps something fruity and spicy?" said Arthur, eyes twinkling.

"You are the most perfect man," said Eames, leaning in to claim his kiss and ignoring the irritated huff behind him that no doubt came from Fischer. "Yes, please, a whole pot." Eames still paid for his tea as a matter of honour, but sometimes he left love notes or treats or other such things in the tip bowl these days rather than coins.

Today, he had a very special gift for them both: appointments at Alexander McQueen's shop on Savile Row, to get them each a bespoke designer suit. He slipped the fancy appointment card they'd given him into the bowl while Arthur rang him up, and paid with exact change just to annoy Fischer.

Arthur picked up the little folder with its foil logo, eyebrow going up, and then opened it up to read the printed card inside, complete with its handwritten appointment times at the bottom with their Savile Row tailors.

"Two appointments?" asked Arthur, looking utterly delighted.

Eames let out the breath he'd been holding and beamed. "I thought you'd like to choose something for me, too. Something you'll want to be seen with me in."

Arthur laughed and kissed him again. "Go sit down so I can make your tea. I can't wait," said Arthur. He tucked the card under the cash drawer and finally took Fischer's order while Eames sat obediently. Arthur busied himself making a line-up of people's orders in pots, to-go cups, and a tin.

Eames watched Arthur move for longer than he possibly ought before pulling out his latest knitting project. Eames had been filling in the corners of his Halloween design book with some smaller items, after the sweaters and shawls were done and given over to his tech editor. He was doing arm warmers now with a fun colourwork design of snowflakes that morphed into skulls. He'd chosen a deep, bruising purple for the main colour, with a slightly sparkly blue-white for the motif. He'd promised Arthur to make something festive for the household out of the remainder of the white, and he'd been pondering holiday tea cosies.

Arthur dropped Eames' tray off with a quick grin and went to deliver the other teapots to customers. Eames was happy to see a second cup on the tray, which was Arthur's silent way of telling him not to finish off the pot if he wanted company in a bit.

Eames poured himself the first cup, then put his second surprise of the day over his pot, a tea cosy in black cotton with a knitted S picked out in a gold-shot white. He took a sip of his tea and sighed happily, then made it up with the milk and sugar provided. The second sip was like a hit of perfect nostalgia, and his heart skipped a beat to realise that Arthur had remembered that very first pot of tea and recreated it for him today.

"I guess you don't need a card for this one," said Arthur, sitting in the other chair now that all of his orders had been delivered and the line cleared out.

Eames grinned at him. "I still have the first one," he confessed, ducking his head and pretending to pay attention to pouring Arthur's tea.

Arthur grinned. "I know, I found the box of them when I was cleaning the other day. Also that you keep a disturbing amount of cash lying around the house," he said, foot touching Eames' to show that it was just teasing.

Eames chuckled. "It's useful when I need to put my date in a cab," he said, referring to their first date.

"We haven't been to Architect in a while," said Arthur thoughtfully. "It's a good thing I got us reservations tonight."

Eames caught up Arthur's hand and kissed it. "Did you really, darling?"

"He approved of a food-related anniversary, and said something about already having us on the books for our first-date anniversary as well," said Arthur.

Eames laughed. "That was all him, he called me last month to ask if we were going to want to do that every year, because the date was filling up, and I rashly said yes."

Arthur nodded, looking pleased. "He was right."

They both drank their tea in silence for a moment, giving it the attention it deserved, not just for the fine beverage but the memories it evoked. Eames gazed at Arthur with unabashed adoration and wondered how he'd ever been so lucky as to win this beautiful man for his own.

The bell over the door rang as it opened to admit a rush of cold air and customers both. "Perhaps we'll have our suits done in time for that date," said Arthur, leaning in to kiss Eames one more time before getting up, taking his cup with him.

Eames grinned. "We'll ask when we go in," he said, settling into two of his favourite activities, knitting and Arthur watching.

Just like the first time, it was shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

Architect hadn't changed much since Arthur and Eames had last eaten there, and they took their seats with little fanfare from the staff. They had become regulars of a sort, and Nash had started nipping into Specificity in turn, often getting a tin of something special to serve at the restaurant. The staff greeted them cheerfully when their first course came out, an aperitif and amuse bouche with some sort of foam atop the drink, and a visibly cold slate holding curls of something frozen.

"He does something new every time we come here," said Arthur, taking the server's silent hint and scooping up one of the curls first, before it could melt.

Eames echoed him and grinned. "And it's always amazing," he commented, then popped the icy treat into his mouth. It melted on his tongue and turned into the subtle burn of peppers amidst a riot of spices that Eames thought might be one of Arthur's herbal tea mixtures brewed up with milk.

Arthur made a surprised sound and then swallowed and grinned. "This is that tea blend he got last week, remember? The herbs and spices thing."

"Did he add the hot pepper or did you?" asked Eames curiously, wishing as he always did for another taste of the creation but knowing there would be more and stranger things.

Arthur chuckled. "That was him, we talked about it but I don't keep that sort of spice on hand, usually. I'm thinking about adding it to my repertoire, though."

"Well, either way, I approve." Eames lifted Arthur's hand and kissed the back. "It's appropriate that we've got your tea for dinner on our tea-date."

"It's a theme," said Nash, coming up behind them. "After word got out about Saito's meal, I've had more requests for nights like this, so I did up another tea menu for the occasion."

"Thank you, then, this is a perfect celebration." Arthur's dimples were showing.

"Yes, ta," said Eames, saluting Nash with his drink. Arthur lifted his in turn and they both drank down the tiny shots, barely a mouthful even with the foam. The tea turned out to be in the foam and not the drink, which Eames couldn't even place though it made him think of coconuts and lychees and tropical destinations. There was something in the bottom that was chewy and sweet and Eames let out a sigh of pure culinary delight.

"Is this that pu-erh you got for us?" Arthur had been rhapsodising about getting to use Nash's connections for it for a week after they got their order in.

Nash nodded. "It is, yeah, it shows up again, but the foam really gets the essence, don't you think?"

"It does, I could taste that distinctive nutty note right away," agreed Arthur.

Eames shamelessly licked a bit of foam off the rim of his glass. "Yeah, I see what you mean," he said, letting the flavours sink in a moment. "Arthur let me share some with him now that he's refined my palate."

"Generous," teased Nash. "I've got to get back, but don't leave until I talk to you. I have a couple more ideas I might need you to send over."

"Will do," agreed Eames, amused at the jealous looks they were getting from the table of A-listers behind Arthur. "I can always deliver it myself, if need be."

"I'm not sure Arthur would forgive me if I fed you without him," teased Nash, letting himself be shooed back into the kitchen to work on the next course.

Arthur laughed. "I'd forgive him eventually," he said, "but I'd make him squirm a little."

Eames leaned over the table to kiss him. "You know I'd never."

"Of course. You've got excellent motivation to stay on my good side." Arthur looked terribly smug about that, which Eames took to be a good sign.

An amazing parade of food followed, with everything from duck eggs injected with tea to cups of pine-laced black tea with pearls of quick-frozen matcha ice cream floating on top and dissolving like icebergs during global warming. Everything held some sort of unexpected twist on tea, the leaves used as well as the brew, and in fact the once-brewed pu-erh leaves showed up in a sauce several courses in, adding a chewy bitterness to the dish.

"I'm glad we brought Saito to Nash," said Eames, when they were sitting back and sipping the cups of simple, first-grade tea that he'd chosen to finish the meal. "It means I don't have to feel guilty when we get special treats."

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose that more than justifies a bit of special treatment. Saito tells me they've already made an agreement to buy him a few more pieces of equipment in exchange for another themed dinner."

"Oh? Do we get to attend?" Eames perked up immensely.

Arthur laughed. "Of course we do, though this time I believe the theme is flowers."

"Oh, darling, that sounds like a perfect challenge for Nash." Eames inhaled the tea for a moment, thinking of the floral mix Arthur still loved to keep at home for them both. "And a perfect treat for us."

Arthur grinned. "Well, it's possible I've been stretching my own budget a little to get a few special things for him as well as Nash."

"It helps, having someone to fall back on," said Eames, face soft and full of what he could only assume was adoration. Arthur had given him so much, chasing away Eames' dark moods and occasional temptations with tea and love and requests for fuzzy things to snuggle into, and Eames had repaid him by taking over some of the bills, most notably the rent for both flat and shop.

Arthur looked back at Eames with understanding and an equal measure of affection in his gaze. "It does, and knowing that you want to support my dream makes me willing to go out on those limbs. But you know Saito pays a fair price, and so does Nash, so the shop's doing fine."

Eames grinned. "That's wonderful to hear, darling," he said, a small weight he'd not realised he was carrying slipping away. "I should've known you'd make yourself a success no matter what."

"Feel free to keep giving me designer suits, however," said Arthur, preening a little. "Doing well and buying Alexander McQueen aren't quite the same thing."

They shared a warm laugh and finished off the pot of tea, which brought them a refresh of the hot water and a promise that Nash would be out soon.

"I see why he picked this one, it can be steeped several times," said Arthur. He'd taken over the preparation naturally, and Eames loved watching him with the complex process, timing the brew, straining it into the smaller pot so the leaves wouldn't stew, and then measuring out a cup for each of them. "It's good for people who might have to wait awhile."

"It's just good, too," said Eames, breathing it in and then taking a sip, letting the flavour blossom over his tongue. There was a tiny hint of bitterness but it was balanced by the richer, deeper flavours that swirled atop it, floral and malty in turns. "Did you get some of this one, too?"

Arthur nodded. "This one's from the shop, actually." He launched into a story about acquiring it and having to pay a ridiculous premium the first time he'd gone into the tea shop, but establishing himself as a serious buyer forever after and getting more reasonable prices, especially when he began to buy in larger quantities.

Eames watched him talk and sipped his tea and contemplated how lucky he felt, compared to the way he'd started this day a year ago. "Some things are worth the patience and effort," said Eames.

Arthur grinned back, dimples and a little pink to his ears making Eames' heart skip a beat. "Yeah, they are."

Nash came back over and pulled up a chair this time, a cup of something of his own in hand. "Well, the tea thing seems to be a success."

Arthur traded his teacup for a notebook and pen. "It was really good, better than the last one, I think. I'm really excited for florals with Saito."

"As am I, now that I know it's coming," said Eames.

"Well, next month is that anniversary for you two, so I'll do something fun there. Arthur said something about you having cards from all the tea he's ever made you?" Nash was looking cheerful, conspiratorial, and tired.

"I do, I could copy them all off for you if you wanted." Eames finished his cuppa and signalled for more water. "They're not dated, but they were in order unless Arthur rearranged them."

"Of course I didn't." Arthur huffed and finished off his own last sip of tea. "Did you want to do something with that?"

Nash nodded. "Eames told me such great tales about the teas you've made him, I'd like to see if I can manage some kind of homage."

Arthur's ears got even pinker. "You'd really want to do that?"

"It'll be amazing," said Eames enthusiastically. "I'll scan them and send you some tasting notes or something."

Their hot water arrived, along with another pot of something to refill Nash's cup, and Arthur once again took over dealing with the tea. "Is there anything you'd like me to do?"

"I'll have some stuff to get once I've seen the cards," said Nash. "Hm, actually, can I come by tomorrow and look at them?"

Eames grinned. "Anytime after ten, yeah. Arthur can make us a pot and I'll bring the whole box down."

The conversation moved on to the dinner, with Nash commenting on several things he'd been experimenting with and both of them getting to hear some insider secrets. They talked about the standout dishes and the one that hadn't quite gelled, literally and figuratively. Arthur didn't have any suggestions for the literal issue but he did for the flavour profile, and Nash took notes on a napkin, nodding along.

Eames beamed with pride to see the respect he was affording Arthur, which Arthur had earned and not just gotten as a reflection off Eames' generosity. "We should get going," said Eames, when they'd wandered away from the subject at hand again and started talking about sourcing organic spices. "Get some rest, Nash, you look knackered."

Nash chuckled. "Yeah, I will, thanks." He shook their hands and wandered off, leaving his pot of tea behind.

They each stole a sip's worth before calling the waiter over to take it back to him; Eames had taken care of the payment earlier, so all they had to do was get their jackets and head home. Eames let himself cuddle into Arthur in the car and wallow in the joy of being allowed, not only to touch him but to follow him home, to be kept and loved and wanted by him.

"So," said Arthur teasingly, nipping at his ear, "are you going to fall asleep on me, or am I getting lucky tonight?"

Eames laughed. "Oh, you're definitely getting laid, though I'm the lucky bastard here." He turned his head for a kiss, drinking in the sweetness of Arthur's mouth and the lingering flavours of tea that always seemed to be a part of kissing Arthur.

"I am quite the catch," acceded Arthur.

Eames kissed the dimples that had appeared, and then his mouth again. "I adore you, my magical tea-making man."

Arthur laughed. "That was really stupid," he said, resting his forehead against Eames'. "You're lucky I love you and tea both."

"I really am, my beloved darling," said Eames softly, letting his sincerity shine through this time.

They got home quickly enough after that, and their cab driver didn't even seem to mind the mild snogging that occupied them for the rest of the trip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 chapters are now edited and ready to go, and I've started on 15, which means you get another one! Enjoy this short little interlude.

Eames and Arthur usually shared a quiet breakfast together, rather than Eames lying abed while Arthur got up to work, and today was no different. Arthur made tea and Eames got out the crumpet rings, having challenged himself to learn to make them and then found he liked them a lot. Nash had given them a few jars of jam, and with the addition of some fruit they had a very nice breakfast indeed. Today the jam was a fascinating bergamot orange that wasn't bitter enough to be marmalade, and Arthur was making an Earl Grey variant tea to go with it.

"There's some berries in the fridge," said Arthur, the first words they'd spoken beyond a few sleepy morning hellos.

"I think there's whipped cream left, let me look." Eames poked around while the crumpets cooked, and soon enough there were two bowls over in the breakfast nook along with the cups and things Arthur had brought over.

A bit more work, and they nestled together on the window seat, trading kisses and eating their food. "Oh, this one's a keeper," said Eames, sipping the tea. It had bergamot and a bit of regular orange, something floral and a warm vanilla note, all of it supported by malty black tea.

"I'm pleased with it," said Arthur, sleepily smug. "I love this jam, though."

"If I didn't have you, I'd be very into this jam, it's true," said Eames teasingly. He ate a bit of fruit and cream to put off devouring his second crumpet, feeling very languid and relaxed after their date. "No food can make me swoon like you do, darling."

Arthur dimpled up happily and rewarded him with a jam-sweet kiss. "Mm, the berries and jam are nice, too."

Breakfast didn't take too long to eat, but it was a time they both enjoyed, first making it together and then lingering over the tea and kisses when the food was gone. It wasn't until Arthur's phone beeped a gentle warning that they cleared up and parted ways, Arthur to shower before work and Eames to head to the gym.

After his workout and shower, Eames spent some time in the gym's lounge working on his final surprise for Arthur, a light sweater vest with his bat argyle pattern in subtle, beautiful yarns. Arthur had claimed the first set of sock samples before the first one was even half done, and Eames had already finished the second set, which would match this sweater. It was a lot of work, but Eames already knew Arthur was worth it.

Most of the gym staff were used to Eames' knitting by now, but there were always new patrons who gave quite the strange looks to the muscled tattooed man knitting away in their posh gym. This time when Eames looked up to find eyes on him, however, it was a pleasant surprise.

"Mr. Saito, I didn't know you went here," said Eames.

"Don't stop on my account," replied Saito, coming to sit next to Eames, drink in hand and bag at his feet. "I am trying it out after a dissatisfying incident at my previous gym. Arthur told me you're usually here around now."

Eames nodded, glancing over but continuing to work since he was on a deadline. "You won't tell him about the sweater?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Of course not." Saito agreed immediately. "Do you recommend this gym or merely tolerate it?"

Eames smiled. "It's pretty good. I get stares, as much for knitting as looking like a hoodlum, but the staff all know me and no one dares anything more than some side-eye."

Saito gave a thoughtful sound and fell into silence, so there was just the click of needles against the background noises of the gym itself. "Do you use the spa facilities?"

"Yeah, those are really the reason I stay, along with the weights coach," said Eames. He glanced over at Saito and smiled. "I'm trying to lure Arthur here for a spa day sometime, so let him know how it was if you try it out."

Saito chuckled. "I will." He sipped whatever he'd gotten from the juice bar and made a little face. "It's a shame Arthur doesn't do health drinks as well as tea."

Eames laughed. "Yeah, I don't much like the juice bar here. It's all fresh but they've got no sense of proportion."

"Hm. Perhaps I will make a suggestion that they hire a consultant to reformulate their recipes." Saito sipped again. "This could be good, but there is far too much grapefruit, and it overwhelms the subtler notes."

"Oh, you got that pamplemousse thing," said Eames sympathetically. "They're really into the goodness of grapefruit for your, I dunno, organs and stuff."

Another chuckle, and another thoughtful sip. "Good ingredients, but yes, terrible balance."

"Arthur would flay them," said Eames, taking secret pleasure in the idea. "I'll have to steer him clear if he visits."

They talked more about the gym while Eames knit away, and eventually Saito drifted off without making any overt points, though he had poked around the edges of Eames' commitment to both Arthur and the continued success of Specificity.

Eames hadn't minded one bit; Saito was a family friend of a sort now, and Eames was happy to reassure him that he was Arthur's, and thus so was his fortune. Even if Arthur still refused to put in a snack counter.

He finished up the progress he'd scheduled for the day and got everything parked and put away, stashing the whole project in his gym bag and heading home to have lunch and start his day's proper work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third cold/flu/virus/whatever-is-going-around this autumn, fuck me. 
> 
> Ch15 is almost done, however, and there's just two more to go after that! Because I'm only a pantser until near the end, when I have to plan so I feel like things won't go on forever, heh.

Fed and refreshed, Eames brought the arm warmers down to the shop only to find that Nash had beat him there.

"What brings you here so soon?" asked Eames, going over to his table, currently occupied by Nash and a pot of tea.

"I want my recipe copies," teased Nash, looking very relaxed and happy. "Arthur's making me up some samples, and we finished another shopping list."

"Oh, of course," said Eames. "Do I have time for a cuppa before we go up to make copies?"

Arthur looked amused. "I told you he'd just take you upstairs."

"Finally, my curiosity will be satisfied. I heard you paid Ethel to move that whole yarn wall she built for you." Nash gestured for Eames to sit, pouring a second cuppa from his own pot.

Eames laughed. "I guess we haven't really had people over much since I moved," he said sheepishly. "Anyway, my printer is one of those all-in-ones, so we can make copies up in my office."

Arthur came over and claimed a kiss, having cleared out his waiting customers. "I'm trying to think if there's anything I don't want to give him the recipe to, but honestly I just want to eat whatever he makes out of it."

"I agree wholeheartedly, darling, your teas are amazing but his food is a completely different sort of amazing," said Eames.

Nash just looked amused. "All right, well, don't let your tea cool, this one gets a little bitter if you let it sit."

"Bitter in the bad way," added Arthur, wrinkling his nose. "But it's good like this." He shamelessly stole a sip of Eames' teacup.

Eames smiled and let him.

Eames had his own sip of tea after, and he could taste bright apples and fruit on top of a base of roasted green tea, with some sort of herbal note that wove it all together. "Mm, it's delicious."

"Good," said Arthur, kissing him one more time before heading back to the counter, where yet another pesky customer was waiting.

"You always did have a fine palate," said Nash with a grin. "It's a good thing I'm neither gay nor jealous, or I'd be terribly put out that you never tried to get me in bed."

Eames laughed. "You are so, so straight," he said, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly. "I didn't want to offend you and have you stop cooking for me."

That surprised a laugh out of Nash, too. "Well, good."

Eames regaled him with a few more tales of Arthur's best pots of tea while they finished up the one they were sharing, since Nash was very much an appreciative audience. Eames left his bag to hold the table while they nipped upstairs, trusting in Arthur to make sure no one tried to steal his spot -- it was pretty much officially his now, but people did try to poach every once in awhile.

"So, you'll give Arthur a nod in this new menu, yeah?" asked Eames, unlocking the door to their flat proper.

Nash grinned. "He hasn't asked, but yeah, of course I will. I've already given a few customers a referral over here from last night."

"Good," said Eames, pleased.

The wall of yarn had transferred beautifully to Arthur's living room along with Eames' gorgeous river coffee table, but sadly the couch and chairs had been declared too much for Arthur's everyday life. They'd actually gotten rid of Arthur's set as well and replaced everything with the most cuddle-friendly furniture they could find in a soft, elegant grey that offset the afghans draped everywhere. 

"This is nice," said Nash, wandering up to see the yarn wall in all its glory. "You two really suit each other."

"We really do," said Eames. "C'mon, my office is back this way." He showed Nash the space that Arthur had given up for him, which had mostly been an unused guest room up until then. He'd recreated his office and library haven, bookshelves and boxes and yet more yarn, along with some reading chairs and a beautiful antique roller desk they'd found together. Eames found the box with his tea cards in it and laughed when Nash proffered him the one from today's tea.

"Ta, I was hoping he'd made one." Eames wasn't even sheepish, proudly adding it to the end of the stack and then bringing the whole thing over to his desk. He turned on the printer and started carefully arranging them to be copied. "It'll be a bit of a job, I suppose I ought to offer you another cuppa."

Nash grinned. "If it's one of Arthur's mixes, how can I say no?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kate_the_reader has continued to do such an amazing job betaing this for me that I wanted to thank her again because it's almost all ready to post, minus 1 chapter in beta, and two that don't yet exist outside of my fevered brain.

Their appointments at Alexander McQueen were back-to-back on Arthur's day off, and they both dressed up for the occasion, Arthur in a favourite suit and Eames in a dress shirt, trousers, and one of his own sweaters. They'd spent some time on the Alexander McQueen website to have an idea of what they might choose, and Eames was tickled to death at the idea of getting a rose-covered velvet jacket or a suit printed with a map of London. Arthur had hmmed over the more classic looks, but Eames was certain he'd end up with something amazing.

They arrived early and Eames practically skipped as they went into the shop, past the elegant display of accessories and straight to the rack of suits. Arthur, true to form, intercepted the employee and showed him their appointment card, explaining that they were going to consult for each other.

"Look, Arthur, paisley!" said Eames, holding up a jacket covered in a beautifully intricate paisley print.

Arthur laughed and came over to kiss him. "I'm not sure I want to be seen with you in that," he teased, though his tone was indulgent.

Eames grinned. "One of us has to carry the brand proudly," he teased back.

"May I bring you two some tea?" offered the employee. "Feel free to browse, though of course there is a larger fabric selection available to bespoke clients."

"We'd love some, ta," said Eames, hoping Arthur would refrain from critiquing the beverage in anyone's hearing. Or half hoping he wouldn't, because listening to Arthur flay people was its own sort of joy, but he did want good suits for his huge quantities of cash.

"Yes, thanks," said Arthur, sounding a little dry. Once the man left, he added, "I'm not going to insult their tea, Eames."

"Of course not, petal," said Eames innocently. "Come here and look at some of these fabulous jackets with me, perhaps we'll find something for you that's fancier than plain grey."

"I like my grey," protested Arthur, though of course he had a lot of other things and very little plain anything. Arthur, Eames had observed, loved stripes and windowpane check and all the subtle patterns and colours one could get that were almost boring, but rewarded a second look.

Eames had spent the past year giving Arthur second, third, and seventh looks.

"What about this one?" he said, finding a slim jacket in a soft blue-grey.

"Boring, honestly," said Arthur with a chuckle. "I want some kind of pattern, just not, you know, orange paisley."

"Ooh, look at this," said Eames, moving down the line and sharing everything of interest with Arthur. Tea arrived soon enough and a little later two impeccably-dressed tailors followed it, one older and one younger.

"Since we're making two suits as a pair," said the older gentleman, "We were hoping you'd allow my apprentice and I to do both for you as a team."

"I'm for it," said Arthur immediately, dimples showing with delight. He held out his hand. "Arthur Levine."

"Charles Houghton," said the older man, shaking his hand and looking very pleased.

"Neelam Walcott," said the younger, his skin darker against Arthur's where the senior's had been pale.

"Eames," he said, taking his turn at hearty handshakes. "Just Eames."

"It's a thing," said Arthur teasingly.

"We're all set," added Eames, making to set his cup down.

"Oh, no, bring them, we'll have a fresh pot," said Houghton, while Walcott gathered up the tray. "We want to sit and have a chat with you both before we get started."

"Brilliant," said Eames, feeling very pleased with how his gift was going so far. "How long does this usually take?"

"Our timeline is generally six to eight weeks, unless a customer is especially challenging to fit or needs a custom fabric," said Walcott cheerfully. He and his tray were intercepted by the greeter, who promised a fresh pot.

They were led back to an elegant dressing room, a bit cosy for four but not unpleasantly so. There were four chairs and a number of books of fabric and designs, as well as an iPad and a neat arrangement of measuring tapes, pencils, pre-printed charts on a clipboard, and tailor's chalk. 

"So, are you two hoping to match?" asked Houghton, once they were all seated.

Arthur and Eames both laughed. 

"No, I'd never subject poor Arthur to my sense of style," said Eames. He was wearing his coral gansey, in contrast with Arthur's neat windowpane check in navy with just a hint of green.

"Me getting to veto the orange paisley is just part of his gift to me," said Arthur dryly. "But I want Eames' style to shine through."

The older tailor relaxed a little. "Well, then, I think this will be a good lesson for young Walcott. You have very different physiques, as well as styles, so we'll be tailoring you quite differently."

"Where shall we start, then?" asked Eames, rubbing his hands together cheerfully. "Arthur loves brocades, subtle patterns."

"I'd love something that speaks to the brand a bit more than the plain classic suit," admitted Arthur. "And I prefer a three-piece, I wear the waistcoats at work."

"He looks lovely in braces as well," added Eames. Arthur wore belts much of the time, but there was something Eames loved about the peek of braces from beneath his waistcoat when he reached up to the highest shelves.

"With his frame, I can see that," agreed Houghton. "Close lines, modern cut, but with some classic style." He was making notes on the clipboard as he talked, glancing from Arthur to the sheet.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, exactly. I wore one of my favourites today, actually."

"Zegna, right?" said Walcott, eyeing Arthur up in a professional manner.

"From a couple of years ago now, yeah," said Arthur. "It's very well-suited to me, and their tailor there was great."

"Well, from now on you'll be coming to us," said Houghton decisively. "We'll make sure of it."

"If you can take care of us both, it'll be a done deal," said Eames, before Arthur could demur. Eames would be very happy to funnel his fortune into Arthur's wardrobe if it kept his lover looking so very delighted.

"We've got a lovely jacquard with the signature skulls," said Houghton. "Just let me pull the book, hm." He and Walcott spent a moment poking through the fabric books until they handed it over, open to a set of swatches that made Eames think of the sweater that brought them together.

"I want this one," said Arthur, fingers running over the black-on-black embroidery. There were several other shades, including a deep navy, but Eames could see that the black was going to win out just this once.

"It's perfect, darling." Eames pressed a soft kiss to where one dimple was peeking out, Arthur's delight palpable.

"A bold choice, which will do well with a modern cut," said Houghton, making a note on the file. "Would you like to choose the lining fabric and backing on the waistcoat now, as well?"

"Let's choose for Eames first," said Arthur. "Something with colour."

Eames lit up. "What about the peacock feathers?" He had to restrain himself from jumping up to grab the jacket that had been on display.

"Not the red velvet with with the silver roses?" asked Arthur. "That would make a stunning dinner jacket for you."

"Hm, yes, but I want a proper suit this time, if a showy one." Eames grinned. "We'll want shirts and ties as well, though I'll be supplying the socks."

"Eames is a knitting designer," said Arthur. "He's designing a whole book of Halloween things, so I expect he'll manage to make me some fun socks to go with my skull suit."

"That I will, darling," said Eames, feeling very proud.

"We've got a couple of options with the peacock feathers," said Houghton.

Walcott pulled out a different fabric book, this one newer, and flipped it to the peacock feathers. "The black with full-colour feather designs is probably best, and the jacquard will match Mr. Levine's suit in a subtle way."

"I approve," said Arthur, smiling.

"Really, darling? You'd let me wear this gorgeous thing with you?" Eames reached out to stroke a hand over the fine wool and silk embroidery.

Arthur kissed his temple and took his hand. "I'd even let you wear the orange paisley, but I like this better. I like the embroidery instead of the print, and I like the way this will go with that one peacock sweater you have."

"Pardon us," said Eames, and he stroked Arthur's face and kissed him very thoroughly. "Darling, you're amazing."

Arthur smiled at him, all blushes and dimples. "Stop being rude to the tailors, Eames."

"Oh, no, don't mind us," said Houghton, who was busy filling out more forms. "Whenever you're ready, really."

Walcott looked a little discomfited, but he was too busy getting codes off the fabric samples and finding the right style books for their two customers to pay much attention to the kissing.

Eames took advantage for one more kiss. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur bumped shoulders and picked up his teacup. "Thank you, Eames."

"So, you'll want something with a cut similar to what you're wearing, correct?" asked Houghton, choosing between two style books that Walcott was holding out.

Arthur nodded. "I like the modern, close-cut look on me, as long as there's enough room to move. I need to be able to bend and reach and climb a ladder, and sit without worrying about the fabric straining anywhere."

"I need to be able to admire him while he's doing all of these things," added Eames.

Walcott chuckled. "These, then," he said, flipping open to a section of the book full of slender men in slender suits.

"I don't want the no-break look," said Arthur. "Half break, please, or a quarter at least."

"Of course, sir," said Houghton, marking that down. "And you dress..."

"Arthur goes right, I'm left," said Eames, slinging an arm around Arthur's shoulders and relaxing. He sipped the tea, though it was bog-standard and nothing compared to Arthur's.

Arthur chuckled. "He is correct."

The tailor marked that, too, down, his unflappable English composure not even slightly ruffled by Eames' shenanigans. "You prefer the full break, Mr. Eames?" Houghton asked, while he had Eames' sheet open marking the other down. There were spaces on the sheet for everything, and Eames had no doubt that Houghton would make sure they were all filled before allowing his customers to take their leave.

"I do, yeah," said Eames. "And a looser cut all around. Double vent on the jacket, and a bit of magic to make me look smaller?"

Walcott cocked his head, and then said, "Oh! You're quite muscular, aren't you?"

"It's my little secret," said Eames with a chuckle. "I should probably ditch the sweater, I suppose."

"When we measure you," assured Houghton. "You don't want a waistcoat?"

"No," said Eames with a smile. "I do want a shirt, though, is there something amazing?"

"Yes, we have two matching ones, a colour one, and white with black print," said Walcott happily. "The whole ensemble is very striking."

"I'll want a shirt and tie as well, but I'd prefer the shirt not match precisely," said Arthur. "Eames can get both shirts."

"There's also the black one with the white collar print," said Houghton. "Three is a bit much to ask, I suppose." A little smile flitted across his face.

Arthur chuckled. "I feel as though you understand Eames better than expected."

Eames beamed. "If Arthur says I may, then I of course want all three. The collar-print one will be good under sweaters."

"That's what I was thinking," said Arthur, kissing his cheek. "I will want one of those classic skull print shirts, too, if we're going all out, and a skull tie."

"Oh, we have a number of ties to choose from," said Houghton. "Perhaps we'll leave that choice for later, but if you want the shirts tailored we'll be better off ordering those now."

"I saw a shirt on the website," said Arthur, hesitating for a moment and then just going for it, "It had these great darts across the front to look like ribs? But it only came in short sleeve."

"A custom item in long sleeve, but not out of the question," said Houghton. He was starting to smile continuously now, like a cat that was getting far more cream than anticipated. "It'll be good practise for Walcott to adjust the pattern for you."

The conversation went on like that, and in the end they each ordered a full suit and three shirts, with ties for Arthur to be added later. Arthur was feeling very spoiled indeed to be able to shop like this and know it was within the very generous budget Eames had set out for them -- he'd asked near the end about their approximate total and been relieved, which had in turn made Houghton nearly hum with pleasure at the thought of having nabbed some generous future clients.

The measuring was a matter of minutes, both of them stripping to underpants and socks, then moving and walking as well as being measured. The older tailor expertly eased them from the general to the specific while the younger one took the actual measurements and discussed their individual requirements. By the end, every detail was nailed down and they could put down their very large deposit. An appointment was made for four weeks to try on the muslins, and then their little idyll in the world of high fashion was over and they were back out on the streets of London, dressed in their good clothes and free for the rest of the day.

"Let's go have high tea somewhere," said Eames playfully. "You can be snobbish about the brew and I'll enjoy the tiny sandwiches."

Arthur laughed and hailed a cab. "Come on, I know just the place."


	6. Chapter 6

They didn't have their new suits for their next dinner at Architect, either, but Eames had something he hoped was just as good laid out on the bed while Arthur finished up his post-work shower. He'd had to get Ariadne to block them, but she'd slipped them back to him two days ago, the sweater and socks both intact and ready to wear. Eames found the trousers he loved best on Arthur and was pleased to see they matched the sweater, which was an argyle pattern in shades of grey and dusky violet, with the bats in black.

A freshly-laundered shirt was next, light grey with barely-violet pinstripes, which Eames had helped him pick out a few months ago, after he'd chosen the yarn. He was hoping to get Arthur to leave off the tie, and he was contemplating cufflinks when he heard the shower shut off.

"Will you leave your hair soft for me tonight, darling?" asked Eames, sauntering over to the bathroom door, which was ajar to let the steam out.

Arthur turned and grinned at him, naked and towelling off. "Yeah, of course," he said.

Eames had to step in and kiss him very sweetly indeed. "Darling, you do know how to romance me."

"I really do," said Arthur, looking smug. "I have your gift ready."

"Well, since you couldn't have yours just yet, I might also have something else for you, too," said Eames. He took Arthur's hand in both of his and led him out of the bathroom to look at what awaited him.

Arthur laughed, dimples on full display and voice full of joy. "Oh, my god, are these new socks? And this is that shirt you picked out...Wow, Eames, this is amazing." He turned and kissed Eames again, pressing against him.

Eames let his hands wander over Arthur's flushed, damp skin for a good long moment before pulling back. "Reservations."

"Reservations, right," said Arthur. "And Nash has been hinting all month at whatever he's got planned."

"He's very happy with me for dating you," said Eames with a chuckle. "I thought you might choose my outfit, too?"

Arthur picked out some boxer briefs from his drawer, grey to match the rest, and smiled at Eames. "I'd like that, yeah. Thanks, Eames."

"You are very welcome, my love." Eames brought over the shirt and helped him into it, the two of them choosing cufflinks and getting him into the rest of his clothes amidst kisses and soft words of affection. Once Arthur was dressed from head to toe in Eames' choices, it was Eames' turn.

"Are these pants acceptable?" asked Eames; he'd shucked the rest of his kit, but was still wearing the knitted silk boxer briefs he'd put on after his shower earlier.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, but you still have to wear trousers," said Arthur, coming up behind him to fondle him through the silk. "I'd only get jealous."

Eames turned and kissed him, warm and sweet, and Arthur perused Eames' side of the closet. He chose a warm sweater and a shirt to go under it, the close-fitting white one that Eames had worn on their first date. The sweater was one that Arthur loved, much to Eames' surprise. He'd knit it with a complex colourwork pattern of dancing paisleys that ombre faded from a deep purple at the shoulders down through blue and turquoise to include a hint of white along the bottom. There were little bright pops of other colours that showed up unpredictably, and it made Eames think of the way Arthur included unexpected flavours in his teas.

"I love that you like this one," said Eames, pulling Arthur in for another kiss. Eames put the shirt on while Arthur found Eames' best-tailored grey trousers and a matching belt, and even chose Eames' favourite pair of cloud city socks to go with them.

"Gift now or gift after?" asked Arthur impishly.

"Oh, definitely now," said Eames. "I'm going to want to unwrap you straightaway after, no distractions."

Arthur laughed as he was meant to, and got two wrapped packages from the top of his side of the closet. "Here you are, then. I hope you like them."

"I know I will," said Eames. He took them out to sit on the bed, unwrapping the smaller one first. It held a set of very fancy sock needles in carbon fibre with nickel-plated brass tips, six different-sized sets of five double-pointed needles, all of them in a fancy carrying case. "Oh, Arthur, these are beautiful!"

Arthur relaxed, grinning. "I'm glad you like them, they helped me pick them out at the shop."

"I love them," Eames reassured him. "I'll be sure to show them off at every opportunity so she can order more." He set them aside and picked up the second one, a package that he expected would contain yarn.

Instead, it held a carved wooden box with another whole set of needle sizes, this time in pairs for knitting in the round. Beneath that layer there were cords and keys so he could switch them out depending on the project, just like his year-old wooden set but in the same carbon fibre as the sock set.

"Oh, wow, Arthur..." Eames set them aside and stood, tugging his lover close and kissing him deeply. "I'm going to knit you so many things with these, my love."

Arthur beamed at him in reward. "You already have," he said, running his hand down his front and up Eames' front to kiss him again. "These were just... I wanted you to have some tools as beautiful as the things you create."

Eames melted and then grinned, dipping Arthur dramatically to kiss him one more time. Arthur's phone beeped their warning that it was time to leave and Eames nearly dropped him, and they laughingly got themselves straightened up, shod, and out the door in their warm coats and handmade woollens.

They were quiet in the cab, holding hands and exchanging warm looks on the ride over. Eames was bubbling with anticipation for the meal; Nash had been dropping by all month just to tantalise them. "What are you most looking forward to, love?"

Arthur smiled. "I know you mean the meal, but really I'm looking forward to another year of you," he said, leaning in for a kiss. "But also the florals and pine needles."

Eames laughed. "Christ, yes, years and years of you, my darling." He kissed Arthur softly. "But also the flowers, and wow, can you imagine what he's gotten up to with all those things he keeps buying?"

"I swear some of the stuff he got through you just to taunt us," said Eames with a chuckle. "I'm really fascinated with all of it, though."

The cab pulled up at the restaurant and Arthur paid while Eames got the doors for him; after a year of being together, they didn't need words between them for everything to go smoothly. The restaurant was full and there was a buzz of anticipation, everyone looking up when Arthur and Eames came in.

Eames blinked and felt his cheeks go hot when everyone clapped.

Nash emerged from the back with a grin. "I see the founders of our feast are here. Arthur and Eames are having their one-year anniversary, and this menu is dedicated to the many amazing cups of tea that Arthur's made for Eames at Specificity, as well as the beautiful things Eames knits." Nash pulled up his pants to show off one of his pairs of handknit socks. "So tea, lamb, and other mysterious things will feature."

Arthur was the first to blink off the surprise and go shake Nash's hand, and there was another round of applause and then servers emerged from the back with drinks for everyone. Nash brought Arthur and Eames back into the chaos of the kitchen to sit at the chef's table.

"I thought you didn't go for chef's tables?" asked Eames, getting seated anyway, his coat and Arthur's hung up on a nearby coatrack full of employee garments.

"I trust you guys," said Nash with a shrug. "Plus, this way I can test out how annoying it is, and charge more if it's not. I can only bug Saito so many times for equipment."

They shared a laugh at that and then were presented with their own aperitif cocktails, and the first of the plates of amuse bouche being finished off and sent out into the dining room.

Nash raised his own little glass of liqueur and said, "Enjoy, yeah?"

Eames laughed and toasted him. "Most assuredly."

Arthur snorted. "And also to anniversaries and tea and all that," he added dryly.

They clinked glasses and drained their drinks in one good sip, and Eames let out a sound of pure pleasure. "Oh, that's so much like that first cuppa, only the fruit is different, I think?"

"Pear," said Nash, nodding. "Quince liqueur is surprisingly hard to find."

"It's really good," said Eames with a grin.

Arthur nodded. "It's pretty amazing, we might need a bottle if you can manage it?"

"Yeah, I had to get a case so I'm happy to sell you one," said Nash with a grin. He took their glasses himself and then got called away, leaving them to try their treats while he did something obscure with a vat of liquid and a syringe.

The amuse bouche was a bit of puff pastry dusted with sugar, or at least that's what it looked like until Eames popped it in his mouth. The layers proved to be fruit sliced to exquisite thinness, with some sort of bright, grassy tea flavour in the crystals.

"So this is that second cuppa," said Eames cheerfully. "Papaya, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, and green rooibos," said Arthur. "He's crystallised the tea somehow, maybe with honey? This papaya pastry is so cool."

Eames laughed and kissed him. "Darling, I adore you."

There wasn't time for more than that before another pairing was set down, this time two small cups of fragrant, milky black tea and a small plate each that seemed to be a salad made largely of edible flowers and unfurled, already-brewed tea leaves.

The tea was a plain, serviceable sort of everyday tea that reminded Eames of Yusuf's "proper bloody chai," but one bite of the salad reminded Eames of that rainy day in Arthur's shop, working off his bad mood with tea and knitting. There was some kind of sweet vanilla dressing on the flowers, and Nash had done something to cut the bitterness out of the tea leaves so that everything was surprisingly light. There were a few surprises hidden in the layered pile to give it a bit of crunch, but overall it was soft and fragrant with little else to distract from the rich and complex flavours.

It wasn't until the last sip of tea was gone that Eames came up for air, looking over to find Arthur had a similar expression of stunned bliss on his face. "This meal is almost as good as that thing Eames does with his tongue," said Arthur.

Eames cracked up, and took Arthur with him. "It's only just begun, you might find yourself trying to trade me in for Nash by the end of the night."

"I'm straight," said Nash, without looking up from where he was helping them layer the last of the floral salads for the rest of the diners. "But feel free to tell any women you know that I rated so highly."

They giggled and sipped water and fell into an easy conversation about the food and the tea and everything in between, fitting into the restaurant's rhythm by letting their own conversation keep flowing even when the kitchen staff was too occupied with work. Each course was stranger and more delicious than the last, setting Eames on a very long and somewhat emotional memory lane about the many cups of amazing tea that Arthur had made for him.

The amazing tea that Eames privately thought of as his tea of a thousand flowers was broken down and spherified so that each little bubble burst with a hit of a single flower drowning in delicate tea. Nash made a vapour of dried pine needles to go with one course, and another one featured transparent ravioli filled with green tea and pine pesto. There was a parade of small desserts at the end, one of which featured a blown-sugar fruit filled with powdered, freeze-dried ice cream and topped with yet more fresh fruit in its own sauce.

The very final item was a pot of the same pu-erh tea they'd shared at the last meal, with Nash coming to sit and share it again while the staff took care of the other diners.

"Well, that was fucking amazing," said Arthur, after setting the tea up for its first steep.

Nash laughed, running his hands through his hair and then replacing his chef cap. "I'm really glad, because that was a lot of work."

Eames beamed. "It was perfect, like revisiting my entire relationship, only remade all new. I've never loved Arthur more."

Arthur looked startled and dimpled up adorably. "Why me?" he asked Eames.

Nash, however, was the one that answered. "Because you're the one who came up with all these ideas, and you were limited to just cups of tea, where I have all the world's worth of food and I still had to steal ideas from you."

"No stealing was involved," said Eames. "But yes, that's exactly why, because you're so good at what you do that you can inspire my other friends into stepping up their game, too."

Arthur was growing redder by the moment, but also looking more delighted and practically glowing from the praise. "Well, then, I accept the extra love on behalf of my tea."

They all shared a laugh, and Arthur poured and passed out the cups, which were light and subtle on this first brewing. They shared a silent toast, this time, Eames thinking of how fortunate he was to have stumbled upon such people in his life, instead of ending up face-down in a gutter with his wallet and kidneys both missing. He had no idea what thoughts occupied Nash and Arthur, but he hoped he was in Arthur's, at least a little.

When that cup was gone, Arthur started the second brew; Nash had brought over a carafe of filtered water and a tiny camping kettle to boil fresh each time. 

Nash shook himself out of his reverie and said, "Saito's already requested a repeat of the menu for himself and guests, and told me to see if you guys wanted to come?"

Eames' eyebrows went up at Nash's uncertain tone. "I have no idea what ever gave you the idea that anything of yours isn't worth eating a hundred times, but I would absolutely love to have this meal again."

"I bet there's a lot of subtlety we can get a second time around that was lost on us this time," said Arthur, enthusiastic. "I'd really love to have it again, if there's really room for us."

"There's room," said Nash, beaming with just a trace of that shyness left. "I'm really glad Eames brought you to me, Arthur. You're a good friend."

"Oi, I'm a good friend, too!" protested Eames teasingly.

They joked around for the rest of their tea, which they steeped a total of four times, though the last one was very pale and bitter. Eames thought it was a good end to the meal, though, something to shock the palate back to normal after all the richness and subtlety and layered strangeness of the meal.

"My actual anniversary gift to you is to pick up the tab," said Nash, standing up and giving them both a light slap on the shoulder. "So go home and celebrate and never tell me the details, yeah?"

"Promise," said Arthur, still grinning with full dimples on display, though his blushes had died down. "We'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," promised Nash. "I'll need more tea, I'm sure."

"And we'll try to make time more often for this," said Eames. "If you think you can make space."

"You're good kitchen guests," said Nash. "My table's always open for you."

On that note, he let one of his sous chefs lure him back out to the main dining room, leaving Arthur and Eames alone in the kitchen.

"Well, I'd say that was a success," said Eames, leaning across to kiss Arthur sweetly. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, it was, and yeah, we will," said Arthur teasingly. He stood up and helped Eames into his coat, letting Eames help him in return, and they were still kissing when a random server wandered back in with some dishes.

"Oh, don't drop those," said Arthur, moving to help the startled young thing.

"We weren't shagging in your kitchen, promise," said Eames. He palmed some cash and, once Arthur had relieved the poor soul of their burden, handed it off. "You make sure everyone shares that, yeah?"

They looked at the small wad of tens and twenties and nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Mr. Eames, Mr. Arthur."

"You're welcome," the two of them replied in near-unison, so that they were all laughing when the next staff member came back in with a similar burden.

Arthur and Eames took this chance to escape, catching a cab back home and heading straight for bed to celebrate a year of having finally found each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter for the liminal-space week here at the end of the year. Is it Wednesday? Is it Sunday? WHO KNOWS but here's some suit porn.

A few days later found them in easy-to-remove clothing and back at Alexander McQueen for their first fittings. They were greeted with, if not warmth, at least familiarity, and were shown immediately back to the same fitting room where Walcott was already pouring the tea.

"Welcome, welcome," he said cheerfully. "Mr. Houghton's just getting the muslins, he sent me ahead since you were early last time, too."

"Ta," said Eames, when handed a cup of tea made just how he liked it. "You've got a good memory."

"Oh, we write it all down," said Walcott with a laugh. He handed Arthur a cup and got a quiet thanks in return. "If you're with us for more than this one splurge, we'll keep all sorts of notes in your file so we can really give you the best possible service."

Arthur paused in his sipping just long enough for Eames to wonder if he was going to choke, holding back his laughter. He managed to swallow without incident, however, and said, "Well, we'll try to manage at least once a year."

"An anniversary tradition worth having!" said Houghton, coming in with two suit bags held aloft. "We'll start with Arthur, he's got the easier fit, but do finish your cuppa first."

"Thanks," said Arthur, sitting next to where Eames had settled. "I mean, assuming these turn out, it seems like a worthwhile tradition to start, right?"

"Exactly right," said Eames, giving Arthur the sweetest of kisses. He couldn't honestly imagine a better use for his inheritance than making Arthur happy, dressing him in the suits he thought he'd have to give up, helping keep the tea shop open for the both of them. Not to mention for the community of friends they'd found there; even Ariadne had taken to stopping in frequently to knit and gossip, once Arthur got over his initial jealousy.

Arthur gave him a look that promised a reward when they got home and then beamed at Houghton. "So, go on and take all the notes you like. If the suits are as gorgeous as we hope, then we'll definitely be back."

"Very good," said Houghton, looking very satisfied himself, albeit in a stuffier manner.

Arthur finished off his tea in one swig and stood, going over to the dressing screen to take off his clothes. Houghton took his time hanging up the muslins before handing Arthur the pieces one at a time, the two of them murmuring about seams and drape before Arthur even emerged in the trousers, braces, and a shirt.

Despite the white basting and chalk lines, Eames could see the suit that it would be in his mind's eye the way he often did with knitwear. The fit was close, like many of Arthur's suits, but the trousers hugged and moved with him in ways that made Eames want to fall to his knees. The shirt, too, hugged Arthur's slender form, and he moved and walked and lifted his arms so that Houghton and Walcott could both see what needed adjusting. The older tailor would wait for his apprentice to point things out and correct them himself, or vice versa, so that Eames and Arthur also got to see and hear what adjustments would be made and why.

"All right, waistcoat next. Please fix the shirt the way you normally would before putting it on," said Houghton, while Walcott went and got them all a strengthening refill on the tea.

Arthur came out with his shirt restored, the waistcoat nipped in and hugging it even closer to his body. He accepted the tea gratefully and let them poke and prod him between sips, though this item seemed to pass muster with fewer alterations. They let him finish his cup before the jacket went on over the rest. It wasn't quite as close-fit as the rest, hinting at instead of skimming over the form beneath and giving Arthur more room to move. The shoulders had the characteristic boxy shape for the brand, which flattered Arthur immensely. Two buttons and flap pockets made it seem almost traditional, but Eames knew it would be outstanding in the skull jacquard they'd chosen.

"Darling, you're beautiful," said Eames, unable to hold his admiration in any longer.

Arthur turned to him and grinned. "I am in love with this suit and it's not even a suit yet," he said.

"That's a very good sign," said Walcott, adding one last mark to his cuff. "Now, if you'll please take it off, we can make sure it's actually a suit next time you visit us."

"Give me your cup, there's a love," said Eames, getting up to claim a kiss and get one up-close look at the suit. "I'll freshen this up while you change, and then it'll be my turn." He wiggled his eyebrows at Arthur just to watch his dimples deepen.

Eames took over playing mother for this round, leaving his own cup empty since it would be his turn to strip very soon. "You made more adjustments than I expected," said Eames idly, handing Houghton his cup.

"A man like your Arthur needs a very exacting fit for the opposite reasons as yourself," said Houghton, taking a sip.

"To display rather than downplay," said Eames, nodding. "Well, you definitely have him at his best."

"And now, you," said Houghton, nodding to where Walcott was getting the suit out of his bag.

Eames grinned. "And now me." He took the offered hanger from Walcott and a kiss from Arthur, who emerged mostly dressed with his sweater vest over one arm. "Don't forget that Arthur needs to choose ties."

"Final fitting," said Arthur, rolling his eyes. "We'll get pocket squares, too."

"I'll have to get your skull socks done by then," said Eames, vanishing behind the screen to strip out of his own ensemble. He echoed Arthur's choices from earlier and slipped into the shirt and trousers, pleased to find that they'd even provided a serviceable belt. The trousers were a loose, straight-leg cut that flowed when he walked, breaking fully over the shoes he'd put back on and hiding the girth of his thighs and calves while still looking smart and well-cut.

The shirt fit more closely, so as not to bunch under the jacket, but something about the way it flowed over his arms and shoulders kept him from looking like a bouncer.

"The collar is designed to look good with or without a tie," said Houghton, as Eames emerged. "Arthur's as well, though it's a more modern shape."

Arthur's face said that the fit was as flattering as Eames hoped, and so he good-naturedly allowed them to poke and prod and nip and tuck him, marking things here and pinning things there. The shirt was more of a close fit than he'd originally intended, but they managed to do something interesting with the body and sleeves to minimise the breadth of his shoulders and biceps. With a pattern rather than the plain working fabric, Eames would look like any other posh bloke.

"I'm feeling more and more sanguine about coming back by the minute," said Eames cheerfully, in response to being handed his mid-fitting cuppa.

Arthur chuckled and came over to bestow a mid-fitting kiss to go with it. "I knew you'd see it my way," he said.

"I'm very happy with the challenge," said Walcott, genuinely delighted. 

Houghton retrieved Eames' jacket muslin from behind the changing screen. "Every client presents a unique challenge, but the two of you together are giving him quite the range of new experiences."

Eames allowed himself to be slipped into the jacket and relieved of his now-empty teacup, and then went through the same dance Arthur had with standing, raising his arms, twisting and bending, testing the fit and making sure it was neither loose nor strained. Eames' jacket had only as much padding in the shoulders as it needed to keep its shape, stiffening the fabric without adding any unnecessary bulk to his already-bulky frame. The side vent in the back better disguised his thick middle, and the cut of the arms subtly brought attention off his biceps and down to his wrists and hands.

"This is perfect," Eames said, looking at himself in the mirror. "I love whatever it is you've done here to make it look good even in this thin fabric."

"Next year I want you to get something that shows off your muscles, though," said Arthur from where he sat. "Just to indulge me."

"Next year," promised Eames recklessly. He felt an ache of longing for this exact future, of Arthur so sure of Eames' place in his life that he'd make promises for years from now. "But the year after I want a proper dinner jacket."

"Sounds like a good plan for both of us," said Arthur, beaming at him with something akin to the joy Eames felt in his own chest.

Walcott and Houghton exchanged pleased looks, and Walcott was the one who added, "You'll come to us for your wedding, too, of course."

"Should you choose to go that route," added Houghton, looking amused rather than censorious at his apprentice's eagerness.

"Should we choose," said Eames, giving Arthur a wink. He went back to bending and reaching as directed, the two of them talking about gussets and seam allowance as though he wasn't there.

"Will you be bulking up further?" asked Houghton, after a long and technical discussion about Eames' underarm fit.

"Ah, no, I mostly try to maintain these days," said Eames, glancing over at Arthur. "Unless my darling has a preference otherwise?"

"I like you like this, you can still do yoga with me on Sundays," he said, eyes twinkling dangerously.

"Well, I'd hate to lose such valuable flexibility," replied Eames, flirting. Their Sunday mornings were generally less yoga and more tantra, as it were, but Eames appreciated both of their athleticism on the days they were feeling experimental rather than sleepily affectionate.

That seemed to settle something between the tailors, because a few more lines and pins, and Eames was being shooed back behind the screen to change into his own clothing.

"Two weeks this time," said Walcott, pulling up their appointment app on the iPad. They had one last cup of tea, emptying the pot between them as they got the appointment set up.

"There will likely be one last set of alterations before you can pick them up," said Houghton, "but we're very much looking forward to seeing you two in your final garments."

"We all are," assured Arthur, looking pleased as punch. "I'm really glad we both got the extra shirts, too, I can tell they're going to become favourites."

"I'm not sure even I can redo your entire wardrobe in bespoke shirts," teased Eames.

"One year at a time," replied Arthur, looking like a cat who'd been given the exact treats it meowed for.

"One year at a time," said Eames, pulling him in for another kiss. They shook hands with the tailors and parted ways. Arthur and Eames found an ancient pub, taking the time to sit in the back garden and talk about fashion and furniture and their futures in sometimes wildly improbable ways, but ones that appealed to them both on such an afternoon. They ate pub food and drank lager and took a cab back, ready to resume the better-than-ever versions of their regular lives. 

The first thing they did when they got home was share a pot of tea.


	8. Chapter 8

Eames cast on a new pair of socks the very next day using his fancy new Karbonz needles. They were a delight to use, and he'd broken into his stash of someday wool to start knitting up the very last pair for his Halloween book. He was using a soft-as-air sock weight yarn in the most delicate of cobweb greys to create a single-colour design of swirling ghosts.

"That's a nice yarn," said Arthur, setting the tray down in front of Eames. It was a quiet afternoon in the shop; Eames had waited out the lunch rush before coming down. Arthur sat and poured for two, the fragrance of soft summer flowers and fruit wafting up in a cloud of steam. "I like grey."

Eames' mouth quirked. "I know you do, darling," he said, thinking back to the first pair he'd made Arthur, which were still a favourite.

"Are these for the book?" asked Arthur, sipping his tea. He claimed the ball of wool, stringing it out between them so he could cradle the soft thing in his lap like a pet.

"And you," said Eames. "Last pair of socks, and then I think that's it. I have to double-check with Dominique to see if I've made my page count now." He was working toe up, creating the sock one stitch at a time, going from a circle to a cup as they chatted.

"And me," Arthur repeated, a little smile on his face. "What's the theme?"

"Ghosts." Eames knew he sounded stupidly proud of himself, but he'd been trying to think of one last sock idea for weeks now. "Hence the spooky grey."

A dimple appeared as the smile widened. "You know how I love my spooky stuff," he teased. He'd put a single, intricately carved resin skull out for Halloween this year and it had garnered more comments than it deserved.

"I really do," said Eames. They'd made plans to do a very tasteful winter holiday display this year, too, but it wasn't yet time to break out the vintage decorations they'd acquired. Eames had vague plans to knit a spiderweb decoration of fine, fuzzy yarn for next year, but he wasn't sure Arthur would agree that it belonged anywhere in his neat shop.

They shared a moment of silence as they each sipped their tea, which was delicious as always, a lovely breath of sunshine in the dreary London day. 

Eames let himself get halfway through the cup before he picked up his needles and got back to work. "How are our regulars doing, anyway?" he asked, enjoying the lull of having Arthur nominally all to himself inside the shop.

"Saito wants me to hire an apprentice, his word," said Arthur. "Yusuf keeps pushing the end of the day envelope, and I keep letting him because he tips better the later it is."

"And there's our poppet, trying to keep today's scarf from vanishing," said Eames. "I'm giving her the arm warmers today."

The bell rang as Ariadne managed to wrestle scarf, bag, and door all into submission, and she beamed brightly and made a beeline for the two men, with Saito following silently behind her. "I'm so glad to see you guys, it's been a helluva day." She snagged an extra chair and flopped into it on Arthur's far side, small enough to fit in the sliver of table space left.

"Whenever you finish your break," said Saito, putting his cash and tip in the appropriate places and going to sit at his own usual table.

Eames chuckled. "Now we just need Yusuf and the whole group will be here."

The bell rang again, but this time it was Robert, looking windblown and disgruntled as he strode up to the counter.

"Duty calls," said Arthur, kissing Eames sweetly. "Come get a cup, Ari, you can help him finish that pot and I'll make you guys something citrusy."

"Blessings be upon you," she said earnestly, following him up to the counter. 

Arthur passed her the china and then rang up Saito before smiling at Robert. "What can I get for you today?"

"Something holiday-ish," Fischer said, sounding more tired than usual and almost sad. "And I want a pot today, please."

"Holiday like mulled wine and pomanders or more like evergreens and fresh snow?" asked Arthur, looking interested.

"Um, the first one, I think. Something warming." He had his wallet already out and was fiddling with it.

Arthur nodded and rang him up. "Eight seventy," he said, accepting the twenty with grace, making change and looking surprised when it all ended up in his tip bowl. "Um, thanks."

Robert shrugged. "You earn it." He went over to the other table far from the door, on the side of the counter where he couldn't really watch Arthur but wouldn't get too much of a draught.

Ariadne leaned in and whispered to Eames, "I heard his father's dying."

Eames finished adding honey to her cup and handed it back with a nod. "Arthur will take care of him."

She sipped and made a noise that might have been agreement, and might have been pure joy at the taste of the tea. Eames topped up his cup, which emptied the pot, and wondered at the turn his life had taken when he was concerned about the feelings of a toff like Fischer. He couldn't help but conclude it was a good one, especially after another mouthful of Arthur's tea.

"Arm warmers are in my bag," said Eames. He handed that off to her, too, and picked up his sock.

"Toe up for once, huh?" she asked, rummaging for the project bag. "What's it gonna be?"

"Ghosts," said Eames, pleased with himself. "Which should get Dom off my back about the book, once I have them written up and off to you."

"Well, if I can ever figure out what you did here that isn't working for me," she said, pulling out her own arm warmer test sample and turning his inside-out to get to the colourwork on the back. She peered at it suspiciously, as though it might be defying the laws of physics or possibly out to get her.

Eames chuckled. "You'll get it, poppet, I have every faith. I swear I didn't do anything particularly funny with those."

"That's what you said about the skull sweater," she replied darkly.

Eames smiled angelically.

Saito's tray was the first delivered, and Robert's next, set gently down and the card slipped onto the tray with a murmured, "Tell me how you like it." Arthur got back behind the counter just as the final timer started to beep.

Eames set his sock aside again and brought their dirty china up to the counter, cups and all. This got him a grateful smile as Arthur set up a fresh tray, only stealing the milk off the previous one. He paid for the tea with a kiss and a tenner, and took the tray back to their little table to pour. He and Ariadne settled into a quiet afternoon of work, tea, and murmured conversation, mostly about the knitting. She managed to figure out where he'd cocked up his instructions and get several inches of arm warmer knitted past the problem spot, and Eames got nearly to the heel on his new sock.

Fischer actually stayed, tapping on his tablet and ignoring the occasional buzz of his phone. Arthur went over and talked to him a little, and though Eames couldn't really hear what they said, another pot of tea was the final result so it must have been nice enough. Yusuf swanned in at quarter to closing, and Arthur rolled his eyes and pointed toward a table, after accepting a generous amount of Yusuf's money.

Saito, too, had stayed until closing today, and when Arthur locked up there were more customers inside than usual. Arthur brought a third and final pot of tea over to join Ariadne and Eames, sitting with a soft smile. "How's everything going?"

Eames let Arthur pour, bringing the sock to a good stopping point and carefully stowing it away in his TARDIS project bag. "It's going pretty well, I'll show you once I've turned the heel."

"I figured out that Eames is insane," said Ariadne, looking amused. "But now I know what he's done to us, so I can fix it."

Eames was going to defend himself, but then Saito came over to their table. "Thank you for letting me stay, Arthur. Have you considered my suggestion of an apprentice?"

"I've been thinking about it," said Arthur, "but I'm not sure how I'd find and hire one. I'm not an actual master of any kind."

"I believe I might have a candidate," said Saito with a little self-satisfied smile. "One of my nephews is interested."

Eames chuckled. "It figures you'd already have an idea," he said. "Have you tried any of the tea dishes that Nash designed for us yet?"

"I have had that pleasure, yes," replied Saito. "Though not the newest set of creations. He tells me you will join us for the repeat." They launched into a discussion of the various dishes, which Arthur participated in only tangentially while Ariadne continued her knitting.

"Go ahead and bring your nephew in," said Arthur, now that Eames' conversational gambit had given him a moment to think.

"Tadashi will be pleased to meet you tomorrow, if that's convenient." Saito gave him a little bow and passed Arthur his card. "This is my contact information, with his name and number on the back."

Arthur pulled out one of his own cards and wrote his and Eames' numbers on the back, in the space usually reserved for tea ingredients. "I'm sure you could get these from Nash, but here's our mobiles."

"Thank you," Saito replied, bowing over the card with both hands. "I am honoured."

"Of all the people who come in here, I can't imagine we'd get a 5am emergency tea call from you," said Eames, looking amused. "I'll put you in my contacts so I can answer." Eames was a little baffled at why a powerful man like Saito wanted to further entangle himself in their small lives, but he was willing to go with it for now.

Arthur stood up to let Saito out, seconding Eames' sentiment. "You'd never jeopardise your quiet afternoons by being a bother."

"Just so." Saito already had his coat on, and he had only to grab his attache case on his way to the door, which was swiftly locked behind him.

"Oh, I didn't realise," said Fischer, looking up at the click of the lock with wide, vulnerable blue eyes.

"It's fine, we're going to hang out a while before I clean up," said Arthur, plopping back into his chair and picking up his teacup with a happy sigh. "I'll let you know when I need you to clear out."

"He's good about that," piped up Yusuf, who had downed his first cup and was enjoying the second more now that it looked like he'd have time. "I abuse it shamelessly."

"Have you made it to Architect for one of his tea nights yet?" asked Eames, now that Yusuf was feeling chatty.

"Yeah, I really can't afford it but you only live once, right? And chemistry pays well enough to splurge sometimes." Yusuf was beaming. "Nash even came out to say hi and talk about molecular chemistry."

"Did you take someone?" asked Ariadne, sounding jealous, though it wasn't clear if it was over the food or the potential date.

Yusuf chuckled. "Nah, I haven't found a woman willing to put up with my weird schedule yet."

"Not to mention the smell," teased Eames. "Sulphuric acid is the worst."

"That was just one time," protested Yusuf, but it was a weak protest.

Eames glanced over to see Fischer looking lost and confused at their banter. "How about you, Fischer, been to Architect this season yet?"

"I, um, no. It's not one of the places I usually get reservations to." Fischer's curiosity was winning out over the sadness in his eyes now. "Do you go there regularly?"

"Eames is on the board of investors," said Yusuf cheerfully. "He and Saito arranged for us all to eat there a while back, and I'm now hopelessly addicted."

"It was really good," said Ariadne. "I haven't made it since then, though."

"Nash designed a special tea-based menu in collaboration with Arthur for our anniversary," said Eames proudly. "It's amazing."

"I'm sure you could get a table," added Arthur. He looked surprisingly relaxed about suddenly having Fischer interested in more than sneering at them, so Eames went along with it.

"I suppose it's not the sort of place my business associates like to dine," said Fischer, getting that lost look back.

"Well," said Eames, "neither is this, and yet, here you are. Not everything in life is about business."

Fischer chuckled. "Don't say that in front of my father," he said wryly.

"Nor mine, rest his bitter soul," said Eames, "but I've done well enough for myself, once I got my head out of my arse, anyway."

Fischer sipped his tea and nodded, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I'll try it sometime." He didn't specify whether he meant the restaurant or the head repositioning, but Eames rather thought the former.

They fell back into their relative silences, Yusuf cradling his tea like a drug and Fischer looking at his phone with evident consternation while Arthur, Eames and Ariadne quietly talked about publishing timelines and sock modelling. Soon enough all the tea was drunk and Arthur shooed everyone out. Eames headed upstairs to make dinner while Arthur closed up shop, and enjoy the end of another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! May 2017 never be spoken of again, and this fic be the mood for everyone's 2018 - warmth, friendship, love, and success. And nice suits for all!


	9. Chapter 9

Eames was unsurprised the next morning at the gym when Saito joined him after his workout. He'd begun to enjoy his habit of knitting afterward, and decided to keep it up even now that the gifts were given and no more secrets were in the works. Saito set a flavoured water down next to him, one of the new ones that was infused with cucumber and mint, and Eames grinned at him.

"How are you enjoying the facilities, Mr. Saito?" he asked, needles clicking away.

Saito took a sip. "They are an improvement over the previous establishment."

Eames shot him a wry little grin. "Going to buy the company, then?"

Saito chuckled. "That would be neater, but no, not this time. I have asked the appropriate employee to look into an investment, however. I find it helps to have a hand in with businesses I wish to keep patronising."

"I won't argue there. I assume you're here to put in a good word for your nephew?" Eames was working on turning the heel, so he didn't look up in more than glances, having to concentrate on both the ghost pattern and the shaping.

"I have eleven nieces and nephews, and I have tried to help them all. This is the first thing Tadashi-kun has allowed me to do for him." Saito said it like dry facts, but Eames understood the unspoken sentiment.

"Arthur will give him a real chance, don't worry. He's been wanting more freedom to sleep in or take time off, and of course people complain about him daring to close one day a week all the time." Eames paused his knitting and looked Saito in the eye. "A proper apprentice is a good idea, and even if he resisted at first, he knows that."

Saito nodded and looked pleased, lapsing into his usual silence. Eames found it comfortable these days, and he went back to his knitting, sharing the space with someone who was, however tenuously, a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch16 is in beta! just one left to write. since this one's so wee, I'll try to give you all another tomorrow. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi - tada! XD

Eames was settled in at the tea shop, his usual table like a familiar comfort as he worked away on socks for his lover. They were knitting up beautifully, and he'd even made some notes on the pattern to keep Ariadne's glares at a minimum. He was expecting her any minute now; Yusuf was already parked at his table, having refused to miss a moment of this mysterious apprenticeship interview.

Arthur was clearing out a small line of people, including Robert Fischer, who had again ordered a pot of tea, and asked quietly for something with a lot of caffeine and a very rich flavour. Ariadne came in and plopped herself down next to Eames without even bothering to order yet, since Tadashi was due to arrive precisely at four.

"I'm making notes, look," said Eames, pointing to the Moleskine that had been a gift from Arthur.

She looked less impressed than Eames had hoped. "We'll see if it helps," she said. "At least with socks I already know how you work."

"How's that last sweater coming along, anyway?" asked Eames.

"I finished the first arm warmer so I brought that today instead. The bat argyle is so much easier at sweater size, I have no idea how you managed to make yourself do socks that fine." She started poking through her things, getting ready to have her own plausible deniability for eavesdropping.

Once the line was done, Arthur said, "Get over here and give me ten pounds, Eames, you can buy for Ari, too."

Eames laughed and brought his tray back, along with the requested funds. "Thank you, darling, you know just how to please me." He stole a kiss and left a tiny knitted ghost in the tip bowl, winking as he swanned off to sit again.

"I won't be expected to kiss the customers, will I?" asked a soft, slightly accented voice behind him.

Eames turned to see a gorgeous Japanese boy standing at the counter, wearing a very stylish outfit not dissimilar to Arthur's, though with more colour. His shoes were two-colour brogues with violet and soft lavender, and he was wearing socks in a glorious tricolour pattern of Necker cubes. His cuffed trousers were slim and a brighter violet than the shoes, the waistcoat darker, and the shirt a pale periwinkle with embroidered honeybees climbing the subtle hexagonal brocade. He was wearing a scarf around his neck that obscured his chest, and his hair was a gorgeous mess of stylish stripes. A beautiful burgundy wool coat completed the ensemble, the cut unmistakably feminine but suiting him somehow anyway.

"You won't, no," said Arthur, holding out his hand. "Arthur Levine."

"Karasu Tadashi," he replied, shaking Arthur's hand. "I prefer they/them, despite what Uncle thinks."

"Is Tadashi okay? I prefer Arthur, and he/him." Arthur smiled, looking quite pleased already, whether for the open gender choices or the clothes Eames wasn't sure.

"Tadashi is fine, Arthur-sensei," they replied.

"Arthur prefers me above all," said Eames, sauntering back over. "I'm Eames, no other name necessary, he/him and Arthur's entirely."

"The knitter, yes?" said Tadashi, shaking Eames' hand with a light grip.

"That's right, and this is Ariadne, my tech editor." Eames gestured and she jumped up to shake their hand.

"She/her, and I love your clothes," she said, getting her own handshake and looking slightly stunned.

"Thank you," they said, grinning adorably. "How would you like to conduct our interview, Arthur-sensei?"

Arthur grinned. "Go wash your hands and hang your coat in the back. I'll show you how to make a simple cup of tea and then we'll talk." His dimples were showing, and Eames couldn't resist leaning over to kiss one.

"Darling, I'm willing to risk my next pot of tea to your maybe-apprentice, as long as you supervise the construction," he said, tugging Ariadne back to sit with him.

"Thanks, Eames," said Arthur.

Tadashi vanished into the back kitchen, and the whole room erupted into gossip, amusing Eames to no end. His phone pinged as Yusuf sent him inquiring messages, and he in turn sent Ariadne a teasing text that perhaps she was less gay than she protested. He told Yusuf to wait until Tadashi had proven themselves and then ask for a pot of chai. Texting done, he picked up his knitting right where he'd left off.

Tadashi was emerging from the back just as Saito entered the shop, and they exchanged serious nods but no words. 

Arthur rang him up and asked, "Would you prefer Tadashi-san or myself to prepare your tea today?"

Saito looked amused. "I suppose I can trust the master to properly supervise the apprentice," he said, dropping an extra coin into the bowl for tips.

Arthur grinned, turning back to Tadashi. "All right, we're making Saito's very traditional pot of green tea and also constructing something fun for Eames."

"Something... fun?" They didn't sound too sanguine about this idea.

"Eames likes to go lighter on the caffeine for his second pot, and today we're going to try to create a pot of tea with a sense of fun to it," said Arthur. "People like Saito and Yusuf come here for traditionally-prepared types of tea they can't get elsewhere in London, but most of my customers come for the blends."

"The creativity which has inspired others, like Nash-sama," said Tadashi, nodding. "Why fun?"

"I like fun," said Eames. "And I'm in a bit of a giddy mood, which Arthur knows because he's perceptive and I'm transparent."

Tadashi let out a small laugh. "So, fun it is. I suppose it's not any more vague than calming."

Eames went back to his knitting, though the lion's share of his attention was on Arthur and his new apprentice. He could tell Arthur liked them, and Tadashi took it in stride when they found out every single unlabelled drawer contained ingredients in some order that only Arthur understood. Eames had talked to Arthur about tea before, of course, but it was fascinating to listen to him describe things to Tadashi in terms of mood as well as scent and flavour.

Arthur sent Tadashi to deliver Saito's pot of tea while he brought Eames' tray over himself. "Sharing with Ari, I assume?"

"Please," she said, grinning.

"As she says," agreed Eames. "And you, I hope?" 

"And me," agreed Arthur. There were actually four cups on the tray with the big teapot, though Arthur only poured three. Tadashi was sitting with their uncle, and the two of them were sharing the green tea and speaking Japanese in low voices. Arthur added one sugar cube to all three cups, and they each took one and saluted each other before trying it.

The taste was elusive and bright, with little zings of citrus and lower notes of fruit all wound up with a bit of smoky vanilla that made Eames think of Nash.

"That is indeed fun," said Eames, setting the cup down. "Whose idea was the smokiness?"

"That was mine, I got Nash to smoke a few vanilla beans for me as an experiment," said Arthur. "They came out well, yeah?"

"Really yeah," said Ariadne, taking another sip and looking blissful. "I can't believe I tried to order Lady Grey here."

"You learned," said Arthur, showing off a dimple, which Eames then kissed.

"So, you're going to keep Tadashi?" asked Eames, glancing over at the pair. "Did you do the maths for their pay?"

Arthur nodded. "Last night, yeah. If you keep helping, I can easily pay a decent part-time wage."

"Anytime, petal," agreed Eames. "I am very invested in keeping my favourite tea shop afloat."

Ariadne looked curious, but was wise enough not to ask. Eames' accountant took care of paying the shop's rent and some of the bills nowadays, and would likely do all the hire paperwork for Tadashi as well, though their paycheque would come out of the shop's funds for tax reasons. 

Arthur kissed him softly, then sat back and sipped his tea. "We'll have to celebrate as soon as I can take a proper day off."

"As soon as you've found a way to test that they know where every obscure ingredient is, you mean," teased Eames. He took another sip of the delightful tea himself, unable to keep the smile off his face at the mix of flavours. "You're already teaching them well."

"Anyone can pour water and set a timer, Mr. Eames," said Tadashi, coming over to join their group. "Arthur's art is one that will take much time to fathom and refashion into my own personality."

Arthur poured the fourth cup and prepared it, passing it to Tadashi. "Well, we'll try to give you the time. Eames' accountant has taken over my books as well, and he'll get a contract ready with a fair wage included."

Tadashi bowed, a little smile on their face. "Thank you, sensei. We'll work out a schedule soon as well?"

"Tomorrow," said Arthur. "I need to sit down and figure out which part of the day will have both a rush I could use help with, and a lull where I can teach you."

"So that it's a mutually beneficial arrangement," said Tadashi. They saluted the group with their cup and took a sip, making a soft sound of surprise. "I have much to learn."

Everyone at the table laughed, and the conversation came back around to the tea, the smoked vanilla, and Architect. Saito came by and promised to arrange a celebratory dinner for them and their guests; he gave both Fischer and Yusuf significant glances.

"We'll make sure to invite people," said Eames, feeling very pleased indeed with his life.

The bell over the door rang, and that was the cue for everyone to return to what they were doing. Arthur and Tadashi took their teacups back behind the counter and began to learn how to occupy the small space together as teacher and student. Eames and Ariadne took up their knitting and got back to their own day's work. Yusuf relaxed into his chemistry journal and sipped his tea, while Saito finished up his pot and prepared to leave. Even Fischer relaxed somewhat, his phone face down while he worked on his laptop and drank the pot of tea Arthur had provided.

All in all, it was a very good day indeed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a special encouragement for someone who knows who she is, and if she's good and Does The Thing there'll be another chapter in the next 24hrs.
> 
> But also I realized I hadn't posted all weekend even though I've been making progress. Ch16 is all betaed and ch17 is underway -- the end is in sight!

The two weeks to their second fitting passed in a blur of training Tadashi, knitting socks, and placating Dom with a bonus pattern for the knitted ghost plush plus a companion set of pumpkin and bat that she could use as an advertising giveaway. Today, though, he was heading out with nothing but Arthur, knitting left behind and the excitement of beautiful new suits ahead.

"I know we can't take them home today, but I'm dreadfully excited," said Eames, grinning.

Arthur chuckled. "That shirt is something dreadful," he teased. Eames, knowing he'd be changing clothing entirely, had shamelessly indulged in one of his vintage looks with the green-gold jacket, coral shirt, and grey trousers with his two-tone oxfords.

"You love me like this," he replied teasingly. "You look delectable, of course."

"That's because I'm wearing your sweater," said Arthur, but he was glowing as he said it. Despite Halloween being past, Arthur had chosen his bat argyle set, sweater vest and matching socks with his fashionable winter coat atop them, and well-fitting black trousers to keep attention on the knitting.

"And the tailoring on your trousers, petal," said Eames teasingly. "I've been admiring that arse of yours since the very first day."

"I know," said Arthur, looking smug as anything.

Eames laughed and kissed him, there in the back of the cab, giddy with anticipation. "I knew I wasn't fooling you."

They bantered back and forth like that all the way to Alexander McQueen, spilling out of the car like eager school kids on a field trip. Arthur took a moment to just stand with him and calm them both down before they headed inside, where they were met with a familiar face and led straight back to their usual fitting room and a steaming pot of tea.

"We're not late, are we?" said Eames, pulling out his phone to check the time.

"Oh, no, sirs, but we often have early birds for a final fitting," the man replied, before taking his leave.

Arthur poured the tea, setting the gift bag he'd brought next to the tray. "I still think they would've liked socks."

"I'm afraid someone claims all the socks I knit nowadays, so I didn't have any pairs going wanting," said Eames innocently.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, good thing for you they seem to be fond of tea," he replied, handing Eames a cuppa.

Eames made himself sit instead of prowling the room, paying for his cup with a kiss. "I'll try to manage socks for pickup day," said Eames. "If you promise not to claim them."

"I'll try to manage it," Arthur shot back, one dimple peeking out from behind his teacup.

The door opened before Eames could think of a response, and Walcott came in pulling an entire rack of clothing, not just their suits but all of the shirts they'd ordered and a pile of boxes at the bottom with the extra accessories. "We've got ties for you to choose today, and all the shirts, so it might be a long appointment."

"We've got the time," said Eames. "Start with Arthur, I'm dying to see his new suit."

"I won't argue," said Arthur, dimples showing.

Houghton came in with his iPad, looking up in surprise when Arthur handed him a cup of tea made to his preferences. "Did I hear you're first, Arthur?"

"You did." Arthur poured the final cup to Walcott's tastes, sitting back in his chair and grinning happily. "Eames wishes to make sure all of his money is well-spent."

Eames laughed. "I just want to watch you parade around in your new finery, even if we can't take it home today."

"It'll just be a week after this, hopefully, unless there's major alterations that need to be done," assured Walcott. "Ta for this." He took up his tea and sat, giving the gift bag a significant look.

"Oh, yes," said Eames. "This is for the both of you, there's doubles of everything. Three of our favourites from Arthur's shop."

Houghton actually smiled at that, digging into the bag and passing Walcott one of each of the tins. "Your shop's got quite the reputation among those in the know," he said, "so I'm quite looking forward to this."

"It's kind of you to think of me, as well," added Walcott, practically salivating at the thought. "Oh, there's serving suggestions on here, too."

"Arthur never steers me wrong," said Eames, appropriately smug. "He's been customising my tea from day one."

They drank their cups and talk moved from the tea to the waiting clothing; there were three shirts apiece as ordered, plus their full suits, and a whole selection of ties for both Arthur and Eames, should Eames choose to acquire one or two for himself, and even pocket squares. As requested, no socks were presented, but everything else was ready to add to their wardrobes, and their final total.

Arthur practically floated back behind the screen, and Eames smiled to himself to hear the oohs as he got himself into the suit.

Rather than try on a piece at a time as they had the first day, Arthur emerged fully dressed for maximum impact. 

The suit itself was covered in a pattern of skulls woven right into the fabric in black on black, the thread catching the light in an intriguing manner as Arthur moved. The tie was the same jacquard fabric as the suit, while the shirt was a soft grey with grey pinstripes and a single skull embroidered on one collar. The fit was exquisite, showing off Arthur's strong thighs, shapely calves, and pert bottom even with the jacket covering some of it. The jacket had been tailored elegantly, and the waistcoat beneath it hugged Arthur's lean torso in a way that was giving Eames some very inappropriate thoughts. Arthur did a little model's turn, then slipped off the jacket and did it again, displaying the beautiful silk backing on the waistcoat with a print of a single large skull on it that looked like it was made of lace.

Eames applauded.

Arthur laughed delightedly. "I really love the print on the waistcoat, thank you so much for finding this silk. It's a wonderful surprise."

"I had a feeling the effort would pay off," said Houghton, looking very pleased indeed. "I can see a few places we need to adjust, but it shouldn't affect the design any."

"I trust you," said Arthur, standing and posing when told, putting pieces on and taking them off, the business of tailoring now underway. Eames poured himself another cuppa and watched with a fond smile on his face, once again glad he'd kept himself from gambling away every penny. Especially when the waistcoat came off to reveal skull braces that he was absolutely going to spend as much time as possible taking off of Arthur later.

Arthur tried on his other two shirts as well, the classic skull print, and one with subtle darting that suggested a ribcage and made Arthur's torso look even more defined. Once all the pieces were marked and pinned to everyone's satisfaction, Arthur changed back into his regular clothing and sat while Walcott retrieved a number of boxes for him to choose pocket squares and ties.

Eames left him to it with a parting kiss and a teasing comment, "Remember to leave some for next year."

"Next year they'll have new ones," Arthur shot back, but Eames knew he'd stick to something reasonable.

Houghton had already hung Arthur's clothes back on the rack, so it was Eames' turn to try on suit and shirts, though he didn't have a waistcoat. A belt was provided with a charming skull-decorated buckle, and Eames had a feeling that would end up going home with them as well. 

Despite the all-over jacquard pattern of his suit, it wasn't nearly as gaudy as Eames had feared. The peacock feathers were large but somewhat muted against the black; a subtle green-gold served as the main palette with the richer blues reserved for the centre of each feather. The fit was loose and easy, which added movement and elegance to the ensemble. Eames chose the white shirt with black feather print for contrast, shooting his cuffs and emerging to do his own model's walk.

Arthur clapped for him, looking happily surprised by the effect. "That suit is amazing, Eames. I never would have expected it to look so good."

"I really love it," said Eames, full of his own giddiness at the success of their adventure. "The peacock feathers are perfect, and I rather fancy the signet cufflinks."

"I'm shamelessly getting the skulls for myself," said Arthur with a little grin. "I think we're still under budget, but I can give up something else if I have to."

"Nonsense, love, I'm certain I can cover it," said Eames. "I will also want this belt, as I'm certain you knew, and Arthur needs his braces, so I trust we'll get an adjusted total before we go."

"Of course," said Houghton, with his cat-in-the-cream look back again. "Now, I know you generally don't go for a tie, but I would suggest for certain occasions you use this one?" He presented Eames with a simple black tie with a single ivory peacock feather woven into the fabric.

Eames looked amused. "Yes, of course, we'll fit the shirts with and without, I suppose."

"I can start you here with that," said Walcott, leaving Arthur to his contemplations. It was Eames' turn to be beset by the two of them, moving and bending and standing still as ordered, changing from shirt to shirt and in and out of the tie. By the time they were done, he was very grateful for the last cup in the pot and ready to let Arthur have anything he wanted, so long as Eames didn't have to be fitted for it.

It turned out that Arthur's wants were actually quite reasonable, however, and while their final total scraped the upper edge of his budget, it didn't go enough over that he needed to worry. They re-hung everything and boxed up the accessories, marking off which ones they'd chosen so that they'd be there for the pick-up in a week.

"Enjoy the tea," said Eames with a little grin, getting out his phone to check the time while his stomach rumbled.

"Ah, I need to feed him," said Arthur with a little grin. "Thank you again for all of this, it's been an amazing experience we definitely plan to repeat."

"You are very welcome," said Walcott, looking just as smug as Houghton now that all of the purchases had been totalled and his work pulling items had paid off handsomely. Since Eames was pretty sure he, too, was looking awfully smug, he didn't bother to call either of them out on it.

"We'll see you next week," said Arthur, dragging Eames out with a grin. "Come on, we need to eat so I can devour you, you looked amazing in that suit."

Eames kissed him soundly. "Oh trust me, love, that feeling is incredibly mutual."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised! Hopefully you all also deserve a reward. ;)

The very next day, Eames got a message from Dom about samples for photography on his Halloween book, and he didn't make it back to Specificity until late afternoon. By now he'd almost grown used to Fischer taking up the table on the other side of Arthur's workstation, but Tadashi behind the counter was still a bit startling. 

"What can we make for you today, Eames-san?" asked Tadashi, looking cheerful as usual. They seemed to have been made to work at a shop like Arthur's, finding the obscure organisation and unusual methodology a joy and a challenge rather than a chore.

Eames felt himself smiling back. "Something soothing, with a bit of a kick, please."

"Ten including tip, I've got an idea for that," said Arthur, coming up behind Tadashi. "Meeting go okay?"

Eames leaned over the counter to kiss him, fortunately something Tadashi had grown used to and slid to one side to facilitate. "It was fine, just tedious. I'm going to have to borrow a few of your items for photography, but I promise to get them sparkling clean before I give them back."

Arthur sighed, but one of his dimples was peeking out. "I suppose I can handle that," he said. "Now pay my apprentice and go sit, I've been waiting for you to take my break."

"Of course, darling." Eames snuck one more kiss, left a tenner with Tadashi, and claimed their table. Ariadne wouldn't be in today, most likely, but a third chair had made its permanent home at the table anyway. Eames intended to take advantage of this by keeping Arthur in kissing range for the duration of his break.

He settled in to watch them move, Arthur murmuring to Tadashi, splitting the tasks as they prepared not just Eames' pot of tea, but several other orders. Arthur gathered ingredients in his little metal cups, and Tadashi filled three different kettles to bring to temp, the big one to boil but the others to lower temperatures for other sorts of tea. Eames had been paying a little attention to Arthur's lectures on the subject, and he'd fallen a bit more in love. His Arthur had the precision of a scientist but the soul of an artist, adding a bit of this and a bit of that and doing his utmost to bring the best out of every single ingredient.

Eames felt the same way when he was knitting, sometimes.

He got out his latest project, which was another sweater for the homeless guy down the street who always greeted him cheerfully on his way to and from the Tube. He'd found a chunky, undyed yarn that would knit up fast and be warm as anything, and planned to make matching mittens, scarf, and hat as well.

"Are you still going to make me a blanket with fat yarn like this?" asked Arthur, settling in with their tea tray, on which there was not only a pot but a plate of biscuits.

"I am," said Eames, setting the knitting aside for now. "This first, though."

"Of course," said Arthur, leaning in for a kiss before he poured for them both. "I promised I'd let you keep doing these."

"You did," said Eames, charmed all over again, because Arthur had made the promise one day out of the blue when Eames was starting something for the Halloween book that wouldn't suit him, in that case the bat-wing shawl design. "You're the best."

"So, Saito is arranging another dinner to celebrate Tadashi's internship," said Arthur.

"I do remember that," said Eames. "We're inviting Yusuf and Fischer and Ariadne, anyone else?"

"The morning regulars don't talk much," said Arthur, smiling softly. "Maybe old Mrs. Tarron, she's been talking to Tadashi about being nonbinary in a way that pleases everyone involved." He took a sip of his tea and sighed, looking smugly satisfied.

"Oh, the one who dresses like a fashion plate, with the fun hair?" Eames took his teacup and inhaled the steam, smelling strong tea with a hint of something sharp swimming under the surface. He took a sip and got a mouthful of rich oolong, followed by a kick of heat from raw ginger and some kind of hot pepper, which was immediately soothed by the milk Arthur had generously added when he poured. "Oh, darling, this is gorgeous."

Arthur beamed at him. "I thought you'd like it," he said, having another sip. "And yes, that's her. She's gone pink this month, and it's been fun watching the style change as her hair fades."

"Will we debut our suits then?" asked Eames.

Arthur shrugged. "We could, though it's not really a formal event."

"We'll see. I couldn't get tickets to that play, they sold out too fast, so I'm open to ideas." He looked disappointed, but unfortunately theatre tickets weren't an area Eames had contacts for.

"I'm sorry, love, I know you wanted to see Chris Thompson doing Shakespeare," said Eames, giving him a soft kiss.

Someone behind them cleared his throat, and Eames looked up to see Fischer standing awkwardly behind Arthur. "Yes?"

"I, um, sorry, I overheard... Did you mean _Winter's Tale_ at the National?" Fischer looked shy, and Eames did his best to smile and seem welcoming.

"Yeah," said Arthur with a sigh. "It sold out so fast, though."

"I have tickets. I mean, extra tickets. There's a special donor party, Dad always gave generously to the National so he could impress people with his culture, and the party comes with four tickets."

"And you'd want to go with us?" asked Eames, making sure it was clear.

Robert nodded, smiling softly. "I usually go with work people, but this would be nicer. Um, and Uncle Peter, he'll come along."

Arthur smiled back. "That would be really great, Robert. Why don't you go get a cup from Tadashi and join us for a bit?"

Tadashi, it turned out, had already anticipated the invitation and handed the cup right to Arthur. "Will you also want a pot of your own, Mr. Fischer?"

"Yes, I'll come up and order it in a few. I've got work to do," replied Fischer, sighing softly. "There's a lot involved."

"You can work here," offered Eames. "Ariadne's not coming in today, and there's a plug."

Arthur poured the cup, preparing it the same way he did for Eames, and then handing it over. "See how you like this."

Fischer took a seat before he took a sip, and his face showed pleased surprise when the kick of spice hit him. "Oh, that's fascinating. Wow, I never think to get anything very exciting here, I guess."

"Arthur uses me as his test subject, so I get all the best stuff," said Eames. He took another sip and sighed with pure delight at the way the kick turned into a spiced warmth as the milk washed the spicy heat away. "This is such a clever one, darling."

"Thank you," said Arthur, preening. "I'm trying to get more savoury flavours in with the tea, Nash is very inspiring that way."

"Architect Nash?" asked Fischer. "You guys were talking about that the other day, I made a reservation but it isn't for a while."

"Well, you'll have to come to my new apprentice celebration dinner, Saito's having us invite some regulars," said Arthur smoothly. "We don't have a date yet, though."

"I'll make time," said Fischer, looking surprised all over again. "As long as it's not on the same night as _Winter's Tale_."

"Of course not," said Eames. "When is that, by the by?" He pulled out his phone, and they talked dates, getting everything squared away about where and when to meet up.

"We'll have our suits by then," said Arthur. "The Alexander McQueen bespoke ones."

"They're a bit flash, but in a very tasteful way," teased Eames. "I promise, you won't be ashamed to be seen with us."

"I never would," said Fischer, though there was a flash of guilt as they all remembered Eames' first meeting with him. He chuckled wryly and added, "Well, I wouldn't now."

"Good enough," said Eames with a wink. "Ah, there's our Mr. Saito, which means your afternoon rush can't be far behind."

Arthur sighed. "Tadashi will get his pot, but you're right, my break's about over." He stole another kiss from Eames and fondled the sweater in progress a little. "I can't wait until we have that blanket to cuddle under."

"Soon," said Eames. "Promise." He kissed Arthur soundly, and they both sighed when the door sounded twice more, admitting five more people in quick succession. "Go on, love."

"Love you, too," said Arthur, kissing the tip of Eames' nose. He took his teacup and went back to his other love, taking orders while Tadashi made Saito's pot of tea, and then splitting tasks with Tadashi to get the orders all made. 

Eames worked on his chunky knit while Robert set up his computer, his face mostly hiding however he felt about being invited to the cool kids' table for a day. They worked in silence for a few minutes, and then Eames quietly asked, "How's your father?"

Robert sighed and looked up, eyes distant and sad. "He's hanging in there, but it won't last forever."

"It won't," said Eames. "I don't miss mine, but I was still sad when he went, y'know?"

Robert nodded. "I know, it's been... harder than I expected." He took a sip of the remarkable tea and shrugged. "I thought I was mostly over it."

"I'll never really be over it," confessed Eames quietly. "But doing this, having all the good things I've brought into my life, that makes his disappointment matter a lot less. I'm not him, nor a copy of him, but it took a lot of stupidity to figure out who I was when I wasn't trying to be."

Robert listened, really listened this time, Eames thought. His head was slightly cocked, sad eyes thoughtful, and he nodded when Eames was done. "I'm starting to see that I have someone to be that isn't what he tried to make me."

"Then it's a start," said Eames, saluting Robert with his cup. "And now you've made some friends who're happy to listen to you talk about what matters to you as you figure it out."

Robert swallowed, glancing down into his teacup and back up. "I suppose I have."


	13. Chapter 13

Eames couldn't explain exactly what had changed, but the final tailoring had moved Arthur's new suit from gorgeous to exquisite. The grinning skulls enhanced the form beneath rather than obscuring it, wrapping around the curve of a calf, the column of a thigh, showcasing without binding. The jacket was looser but even that skimmed close to Arthur's body, evoking Eames' memories of him out of it. The waistcoat drew attention to Arthur's slender torso in a different way, inviting Eames to step close and wrap his big hands around Arthur's waist for a kiss.

"You're beautiful, darling." Eames kissed him again and stood back, straightening the pocket square unnecessarily. "Every part of this suit is perfect, including the man in it."

"I really love it," said Arthur, cheeks a touch flushed and dimples on display. "I usually don't go for black, but I absolutely love this fabric and this suit."

"It suits you quite well," said Walcott, watching from the sidelines. "I think the alterations are done, but Mr. Houghton gets final say."

"I concur, though I'll of course want to see all the pieces individually," said Houghton. "The movement is comfortable?"

"Best suit I've ever owned," said Arthur. "I'm really in love with the waistcoat, especially." He slipped out of his jacket to flash the back design again, the curves of the printed skull and the curves of his back in elegant harmony.

Not to mention the delectable curves of his arse below, framed perfectly by the bottom of the waistcoat and the skulls cavorting on its surface.

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Eames, clearing his throat.

Walcott handed Eames a cup of tea, which cleared the way for Houghton to examine the fit of everything, and get Arthur into his other shirts as well. There was a bit of debate about the shirt with the rib darts, and it was decided they'd adjust that one piece but send the rest home with them today.

Eames watched with a smile on his face and tried to keep from getting a tent in his pants to go with it, with moderate success.

"Your turn, Mr. Eames," said Walcott, his face lit up with delight and triumph. Houghton looked pleased, but in a more muted, British sort of way, where Walcott let his pride shine through.

"I can't wait," said Eames, finishing off his tea just as Arthur emerged back in his street clothes. There was a minute of fussing, getting things packed up and ready to take home and getting Eames' things out to try on, which fortunately quelled Eames' ardour enough to be going on with.

Eames' final suit was as exquisite in its own way as Arthur's. Every bit of it was as comfortable as possible, flattering while downplaying his strength, making him look like an elegant, flash bastard but not one who could bench press you. The trousers broke fully over his favourite shoes, and the peacock feather jacquard managed to be comfortable despite the heavier weave of the design. Eames emerged sans tie with a huge grin on his face, patting the skull belt buckle proprietarily into place.

"I'm already in love, and I haven't even heard Arthur's reaction," said Eames, doing a little showy turn to make the jacket swing.

"Oh trust me, I am also in love," said Arthur, sounding richly amused and more than a little turned on. "I can't believe you made that look classy, but it's magnificent."

"I have plenty of class, I'll have you know," Eames teased back. He took off the jacket and did the turn again, wanting to get Arthur's reaction to the fit of the trousers in the most important of areas.

"Everything's comfortable, no binding or twisting?" asked Walcott curiously. "It's really quite a remarkable illusion."

"And it still makes you look delicious," added Arthur, winking as Eames turned back to him. "They did a great job with pattern matching on the seams, too."

The whole suit had those little touches, and the shirt as well, places where a less exacting person might have cheated a bit to make their life easier but these two had matched up everything to make the suit all of a piece. The shirt, too, had the same level of detail, and Eames was very pleased to see both tailors' names on the inside pocket, along with the Alexander McQueen signet and the date. The lining of his suit was bright blue silk printed with ivory skulls; Arthur's golden silk suit lining had peacock feathers, a little nod to them as a matched pair.

Eames let himself be double-checked, but all of his pieces were perfect, even the shirts. They were all bagged up and a final tab brought out quite discreetly while Arthur poured the rest of the pot, which was one of the blends he'd gifted them with last time. Eames did the requisite monetary things, making sure the ribcage shirt was included, and then they all settled in for one last cuppa.

"So, next year," said Houghton, glancing over at the many bags waiting to be taken home, both hanging and shopping.

"Next year," said Eames. "Our schedules may have changed by then, is there some way to get you to remind me when the time comes to make appointments?"

"Of course," said Walcott, getting out the tablet that contained all of their data thus far. "Two months in advance?"

"Sounds great," said Arthur. "Though, maybe three? Then we could have the suits for our actual anniversary, instead of after."

Eames nodded his agreement. "Arthur needs something with a bit of colour next year, if I'm going to be letting you show me off like a tart."

Arthur laughed. "I just like how strong you are, and you never let on if you can help it." They shared a soft kiss.

"I'll make a note of both those things," said Walcott. "Thank you again for the socks," he added, hefting the package. Eames had spent several evenings knitting up some skull socks for Walcott, and bribed Ariadne to make nice boring argyle for Houghton. He had plans to switch it up next year when he had a bit more time.

"You're quite welcome, let me know if they fit," said Eames. "I'll make a note of it, along with keeping track of tea for Arthur."

"Of course, of course," said Walcott, making another note in the file, presumably to remind him to do just that. "Will you have a preference on who tailors you next year?"

"Oh, we want you both again," said Arthur. "Assuming that's acceptable. This worked really well for us."

Houghton got that proud look again. "That can likely be arranged, I'm not planning to retire any time soon."

They made more small talk over the last of the tea, and then it was time to load themselves and their precious cargo into a cab and head home.


	14. Chapter 14

It was all Eames could do not to tackle Arthur into the bed for a second time, once he got himself entirely fitted up head to toe in his Alexander McQueen best. Fischer had confirmed and was coming by the shop in a limo to pick them up, an extravagance he assured them was totally normal at things like this. Instead, Eames forced himself to make sure he was wearing his own finery properly, everything tucked and adjusted as required.

"It's a good thing we made time for sex earlier," said Arthur, looking at him hungrily.

Eames laughed and sidled up for a sweet, lingering kiss. "I was just thinking the same thing, my tempting darling."

"And a good thing we know someone's on their way already," Arthur teased back. "Come on, let's get our coats and go wait downstairs."

Eames let himself be chivvied until they were out in the cold, in front of the darkened shop and wondering which set of oncoming headlights would swoop in for them. He was a little nervous of meeting Fischer's infamous Uncle Peter, especially after a bit of judicious googling, but in the end he had Arthur and they looked fabulous, and they'd enjoy the Shakespeare even if the party fell flat.

The limo pulled up right on time, and the driver got out to open the door.

"Ta," said Eames cheerfully, getting in and finding that Robert and his uncle had taken the forward-facing seats, leaving the backward-facing ones for them.

"Thank you again for this," said Arthur, settling in next to Eames. Arthur's suit looked almost conservative in the dim interior light, but there was no mistaking the peacock feathers on Eames' trouser leg for anything but flash.

Robert smiled, looking nervous and tired but welcoming, a warmth in his eyes that made the blue in them shine. "It'll be nice to see the play with fellow Shakespeare fans."

"We read it together this past week," said Eames proudly. "I wanted to be able to follow along better."

"Eames hadn't read it since college," added Arthur, "and it was new to me."

"I read it back when they published the schedule for this year," said Robert, relaxing a little. "You two haven't met my uncle, have you? Peter Browning, this is Arthur Levine and Eames."

"Robert's told me a bit about you two," said Browning, his manner saying that he wasn't sure how he felt about any of it.

"It was very kind of him to invite us along," said Arthur. "We're showing off our new suits. Eames took us to Alexander McQueen for our anniversary."

"Arthur's always a fashion plate," said Eames. "He's very tolerant of my love of colour, which is why Alexander McQueen was perfect for us."

"Next year we're going to switch it up a little, now that we're comfortable with our tailors there," said Arthur, giving Eames a very fond, loving smile.

Browning made a noise that was almost approving. "A good tailor's worth their weight in gold."

"Have you seen _Winter's Tale_ before, Mr. Browning?" asked Arthur.

He allowed that he had, and they chatted about the play for the remainder of the ride, which made Eames wonder what conversation they'd make at the reception. Robert had retreated into himself somewhat, at least from the smiling man they'd been coaxing out of his shell at the shop. Eames decided that whatever else he did, he'd try to make sure no one shoved their friend all the way back into the prat mask he'd worn before this.

The reception was after the play, at any rate, so perhaps Eames could recycle some of this conversation by relating it to this particular staging. 

They were let out at the kerb, where there were fortunes in heirloom furs and jewellery milling around, and somehow Arthur and Eames managed not to look too out of place. They made it to the coat check, and Eames was stunned all over again that this handsome man in designer finery was his to kiss.

"That's a very satisfying look," said Arthur, once they'd moved out of the vestibule and into the crowded foyer.

Eames kissed him just because he could. "It's very satisfying to be the man on your arm, darling."

Robert joined them, while Browning was caught up in a knot of other rich old men that had waylaid him outside the coat room. "Those suits look great, I'm glad you let me bring you." He was smiling that wide, open grin that made him look younger by a mile, and Eames couldn't help but answer it.

"I'm so glad you invited us," said Arthur, shooting his cuffs with a pleased smirk. "This is the best possible place to wear my stupidly expensive gift."

Eames chuckled. "I admit, I feel quite like we fit in here, despite our more humble ambitions." He smoothed his hand down the front of his jacket self-consciously, feeling the fine, smooth threads of silk and wool under his fingers. "And Arthur loves his suit almost as much as he loves me."

"Almost," agreed Arthur impishly. "So, do we sit now or just mill around making you look good or what?"

Robert laughed. "Usually it's the latter, they'll sound a chime to shoo us all into the theatre pretty soon."

"Not worried they'll think you picked up a couple of hot male supermodels?" asked Eames teasingly.

Robert shook his head. "They all know Uncle Peter would never let me flaunt you if I had, so they're all dying to know just who you really are and what you're doing here with us."

"Even better," said Arthur, settling into his mysterious tea proprietor smile. "We'll just let them wonder."

Browning joined them just as the chime sounded, and the crowd surged toward the theatre entrances. Robert and Browning had been there before and knew exactly where their excellent seats were, so they had no problem finding their way and getting comfortable before the house lights dimmed.

The play was good, fortunately, and their preparation made it fun to watch rather than a chore to follow. They stretched during intermission and stood at the end to applaud, Arthur looking happily star-struck when Chris Thompson came out to take his bows. Eames snuck in another kiss as the house lights came up, and then it was just a matter of shuffling back out to the foyer for the reception.

Browning and Arthur wandered off to find them drinks, so Eames sidled up to Robert with a grin. "Think they're betting on who is whose boytoy now?"

Robert was surprised into a laugh, cracking the public persona he'd been building up. "Well, they'll definitely think you're mine now, except, aren't you the older one?"

Eames harrumphed. "I might be, but maybe that's what you're into, how are they to know?"

"Well," said Robert under his breath, "I do have daddy issues."

It was Eames' turn to snort out a laugh, and they were both still chuckling when Arthur and Browning returned, each bearing two drinks. Arthur handed Eames' over with a kiss and said, "They knew how to do a proper Tom Collins, so I'm making you drink one."

"Getting me sloshed for later, love?" asked Eames teasingly.

Robert had some kind of amber liquor, a match to Browning's and probably scotch. They all took a sip and discussed their drinks, and then the play, though mostly they were interrupted by this or that acquaintance of Fischer's, whether junior or senior. Most people were clearly fishing for information on Arthur and Eames, though a few ignored them entirely in favour of kissing up to Browning about business.

There was a commotion off to one side, and the actors emerged, which made Eames aware of the flash bulbs that had been going off intermittently the whole time, but became a storm of light when the cast emerged from backstage, all of them freshly showered and ready for their photo op. 

"So you're here for fair Florizel, right?" asked Fischer teasingly.

Eames chuckled. "He's been a fan since long before I knew him." He sipped his drink and kept an eye on the movement of the talent through the money, wanting to see if they could manage a meeting without looking like idiots.

They were in luck, as the ebb and flow of the crowd brought Thompson close enough to spot the three of them and make a beeline for the men who looked closer to his own age and sensibility than anyone else there. "Hey, how'd you like the play?"

"It was great," said Eames, giving Arthur a moment to breathe. "We'll tweet about it, I'm sure."

"Robert Fischer," he said, coming to Arthur's rescue as well and offering his hand for shaking. "This is Eames, and Arthur Levine." Browning had been subsumed into another conversation and had his back to them, or was possibly deliberately avoiding the fanboy moment. Either way, the four of them made a pleasant knot of attractive, well-dressed young men in the midst of the older, rich set surrounding them.

"I really enjoyed your performance," said Arthur, when it was his turn to shake hands. "I don't suppose this is the sort of event where a selfie is appropriate?"

"Oh, you have to!" said Fischer. "I'll take it and text you, hold on."

Eames manoeuvred it so that the very handsome actor was between Arthur and Eames. "Is that Dolce & Gabbana?" asked Arthur, finding his tongue to ask about the man's deep blue suit with its striking black lapels.

"It is, yeah. No need to ask about yours, of course," he said, admiring Arthur's skulls openly.

"It's an anniversary gift," said Arthur with a grin. "Eames got us both bespoke outfits, everything from suits to cufflinks included."

"I wanted us to be head-to-toe in Alexander McQueen for tonight," said Eames, proud to be claimed so obviously by Arthur despite the handsome man between them.

The conversation paused to smile for not only Robert's camera but a few of the circulating press as well, and then they parted into a more conversational grouping.

"I know who Robert is, obviously, but I've not heard of you two," said Chris, charmingly disingenuous about his curiosity.

"I'm a knitwear designer, and Arthur runs a tea shop," said Eames, pulling out one of Arthur's cards and handing it over. "Come by for a cuppa sometime."

Chris blinked, and then looked utterly delighted. "Okay, but now I need another selfie for Instagram," he said. He unlocked his phone and then called over one of the other actors, getting Robert to crowd into the shot, too. When they found the photo later, it was captioned, "Not gonna lie, I'm a little jealous of the suits. #leastfamous #stillbetterdressedthanme #alexandermcqueen"

Chris got called away shortly after that, and Arthur finished his drink in one gulp. "Did that really happen?"

"Yep," said Robert, looking smug as anything. "You got to meet Chris Thompson, and he took a selfie for his Instagram, for that 'least famous person in the room' thing he does."

Eames laughed. "I have a fandom, you know," he objected, but it wasn't really serious. He finished his own drink in two big sips and took their empty cups off to find the trash, hoping they could escape sooner rather than later. 

When he returned, Browning had rejoined them and was saying, "...out for drinks with Wallace and Chambers, so you go on and take the car."

"Thanks, Uncle Peter," said Fischer. "I'm glad you enjoyed the play." He turned back to Arthur and Eames with a grin. "Shall we?"

"God, yes," said Arthur with a laugh. "Did you want to come upstairs for a cup of tea? Will your driver be okay idling around our neighbourhood?"

"I don't actually know where you live," reminded Robert, leading their way to the fortunately quiet coat check room. Most people were staying for more than one drink, so they got their things in a trice and headed outside.

"We live above the shop," said Eames, letting Robert pick their limo out of the crowd and lead them to it. "It's terribly convenient for everyone."

"You should look into buying the building," said Robert thoughtfully, settling into the limo with practiced ease.

Eames nodded. "I am, but it's slow going. Real estate in London is at a premium."

Arthur looked a little surprised at that, but took it in stride. "It'd be a good investment, I guess."

"That kind of property usually is," said Robert absently, looking out the window. "Do you really want me to come up and have tea?"

"It's the sort of thing friends do," said Arthur, a gentle reminder that they weren't business associates or supermodel boytoys, no matter what other people thought.

Robert smiled, turning back to them. "Then I'd love to, the driver knows how to handle the car." He lowered the barrier and had a short conversation, and when they were dropped off they all three went upstairs.

Eames gave him the tour while Arthur made up a tea tray, and they sat together and talked about nothing, looking themselves up on Instagram and Eames tweeting out their own photo to his much smaller fanbase. They sent Robert home at a decent hour and hung their suits with care before tumbling into bed together to celebrate a very successful evening.


	15. Chapter 15

"We made TMZ!" crowed Eames delightedly, coming down to the shop after lunch.

Arthur laughed and shook his head. "Give my apprentice some money," he said.

"You made Oh No They Didn't, too," said Yusuf, following Eames inside. "And there's a new forum section dedicated to figuring out which man stole your heart."

"You haven't told the fandom about me yet?" asked Arthur, sounding offended.

Yusuf's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, no, he tweets about you all the time, but there's never photos."

Eames cocked his head. "But Fischer and that actor bloke are easily identified, I mean, their names are in the TMZ article."

"Yeah, but they only just added yours," said Yusuf. He was trying to get himself out of his coat and his tablet out of his bag simultaneously, and succeeding at neither. "And there's theories that Arthur is just a code name for one of the famous blokes that's in the closet."

"That's stupid," said Eames. "Arthur, darling, may I please post a selfie of the two of us over tea? Tadashi I feel will frame us in our best light."

Arthur dimpled up. "Yes, of course. I had no idea you were preserving my privacy, Eames, you could've posted me before."

"I shall start an Instagram dedicated to your well-tailored arse immediately," said Eames, getting settled in himself. 

Yusuf finally got himself straightened out and brought his tablet up to the front counter. "I'll buy for Eames this round. I got a date from one of the girls in Lab 2 for knowing the celebrity gossip before they did, so I owe you guys."

"Acceptable," said Arthur. "Give Tadashi twenty now, and that'll cover two pots this afternoon as long as you leave at closing time."

Yusuf handed the cash over, looking just guilty enough that Eames suspected there'd be another twenty coming later as he begged to stay. Arthur's wink said that he knew it, too.

"I believe I have finally mastered your chai, if you'll allow me to prepare the pot?" asked Tadashi politely; they always offered the regulars a choice, though when there was a rush people took what they could get.

"Oh, yes, ta," said Yusuf, pulling up the articles on his tablet. "Arthur, should I leave this with Eames?"

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, go sit with him for now, and I'll take a break to read gossip about myself."

"Oh, there's another hit for Who What Wear," murmured Yusuf, poking at his tablet as he wandered over to sit with Eames. "You two were quite the fashion plates, are these the famous anniversary suits?"

"They are indeed, and worth every pound I paid for them," said Eames. There were several good shots of them, not just their selfies but shots from the various photographers that had been in attendance in a professional capacity. "You can't even see the waistcoat, really, it's the secondary star of Arthur's suit. They found this amazing fabric for the back."

"What's the primary star?" asked Yusuf, taking Eames' bait.

"His arse, of course," said Eames. "I mean, look at that." He gestured toward the lovely photo of them from the side, Eames' hand at Arthur's waist exposing the curve of his delectable bottom to the camera.

Yusuf chuckled and looked. "Hm, yes, that's almost better than your old selfie."

"Your mouth says straight, but your eyes say bicurious," said Eames teasingly. "Good thing for you Arthur's taken so you won't have cause to experiment."

"And what does that make you?" asked Yusuf, teasing right back.

"I'm Arthursexual," said Eames with an easy grin. "He's spoiled me for all others."

"Good answer," said Arthur, joining them with two trays balanced in a way that always made Eames envy his wrist strength, among other things. "For that I won't make you share Yusuf's chai."

"You wouldn't have anyway," said Yusuf, gratefully accepting his pot and pouring himself a cupful. "I need all the caffeine I can get."

"I can't argue with that," said Arthur, sitting and stealing a kiss from Eames. He prepared their cups, anticipation on his face while Eames paged through the various articles Yusuf had found about the event and found all of their photos for Arthur to peruse. "Tadashi, can you come take a photo of us for Eames?"

"Of course, Arthur-sensei," said Tadashi, bringing over an empty cup and a hopeful look.

Arthur took the cup and poured for them, which Tadashi got a photo of, and then another of he and Eames, and a third with Eames knitting while Arthur sipped tea. "All right, send them over to him," said Arthur, handing off the cup of tea as a reward.

Eames finally got to taste his own tea, which Arthur had adulterated with lemon and some sort of intriguing syrup. Eames sipped it and made a soft sound of surprise as the flavours hit. There was the sharp bite of lemon and a deep sweetness, and between them an entire orchestra of tea notes. Grassy and malty, nutty and earthy, with hints of fruit and flower, but no more than he might get off of any tea blend. "Oh, Arthur, this is amazing."

"Arthur-sensei teaches me something new with every sip," said Tadashi reverently.

Arthur looked pleased. "I'm pretty happy with how this one came out. The syrup is made of green tea and brown sugar, and I brewed a mix of black tea and an oolong that steeps at the same temperature together, so there's a blend of teas but in a way that doesn't make a mishmash of them."

"It's so complex, I adore it," said Eames. "There's all these layers of tea flavour that mix together in such a lovely way, I'm fascinated with how it all manages to taste so distinct." He took another sip and sighed with happiness. "Really lovely."

"I'm always curious," said Yusuf. He took a sip of his own tea and then sighed with joy. "But then I remember how much I love this, and I'm content with my lot."

"You know what you like, that's admirable," said Eames. "Arthur always knows what I like, which is even better."

He was rewarded with a kiss for that, and a chuckle from those listening, which was half the room at this point. 

Arthur took another sip and made a thoughtful sound. "Next time, I'm going to try a different oolong and two separate brewings. I want to try pouring out into a separate pot for serving, like we do with the teas at Architect."

"I'll look forward to it," said Eames.

"Might I also suggest a softer citrus such as yuzu?" said Tadashi, looking shy but determined to find their voice.

"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea," said Arthur thoughtfully. "Maybe if I put dried peels in the syrup mix instead, or fresh..." He trailed off, then pulled a notebook out of his pocket and made a few notes, something he often did in the evenings but rarely where people could see.

"We'll have to try a bunch of different things," said Eames, delighted. "I could drink variations on this for a week, to be honest. Oh, maybe bergamot oranges for a traditional flair?"

"I'll be fascinated to experience the development of this recipe," said Tadashi. "Do you usually experiment like this to get your mainstays?"

"I do, yeah," said Arthur, tucking notebook and pen away. "I used to just make myself endless one-cup pots of tea when no one was around, but now Eames helps."

"All right, have a bit more and then let's get my tweets sent," said Eames. He got out his phone and saved all the photos from Tadashi, sending them back some emojis in thanks. They all agreed on one of the shots of knitting as the main photo, and then Eames chose a second photo of Arthur pouring tea as a follow-up.

Eames @eamesknits . 15s  
For those confused, this is me and my actual bae Arthur, who makes the best tea in the business. Just ask Nash @architectoffood

He attached the first photo, then went back and added in some heart emojis between the two sentences before hitting send.

Eames @eamesknits . 1s  
Arthur Levine of Specificity, pouring a cuppa for his tea apprentice. No, really.

The second photo was Arthur preparing tea, a look of concentration on his face that was almost transcendent as he judged the exact correct amount of his homemade tea syrup to add. Eames added tea and hearteyes emojis to that one and sent it off.

"There, we'll see what they make of that," said Eames.

"You didn't at TMZ or anyone," said Yusuf, whose phone had beeped with notifications of both tweets.

"I'm certain you and the BAEs will take care of my bae and me," said Eames.

Arthur's brows knit. "You didn't call me that in public, did you?"

"Of course I did," said Eames. "It's an homage to my fans."

Arthur sighed. "If anyone uses that nickname for me but you, there may be murder. It might be yours."

Yusuf snorted. "You love it when he's possessive," he said when Arthur glared.

Arthur thought about this and then shrugged. "Only for Twitter," he said, relenting.

"Only for Twitter," agreed Eames, sealing it with a kiss. "Oh, look, it's already getting replies and retweets."

"Oh, god," said Arthur, closing his eyes. They opened again when the door opened, letting in a trio of customers. "I'm serious, only for Twitter."

"Promise, darling," said Eames, catching up Arthur's hand to kiss before letting him take his cup and apprentice both back up to the counter to work.

Eames spent the afternoon split between knitting and merrily replying to tweets, showing nothing but delight for people's admiration of his handsome face and handsome boyfriend. He agreed affably that he was very lucky indeed, and blithely ignored any insults sent his or Arthur's way, though he did make sure to block anyone daring the latter. Yusuf kept trolling the forums and articles, sharing tidbits such as the exact moment Arthur's name was added to TMZ and the fact that Who What Wear actually beat them to the scoop by a good five minutes.

All in all, it was a delightful afternoon, even if one of the regulars did ask Arthur what 'bae' meant. Eames was confident he could win Arthur's approval back once they were alone, and the threatened murder -- or worse, tea deprivation -- would never need to be implemented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more to go!


	16. Chapter 16

Architect was a different restaurant on the private dining nights. Saito bought out the whole place and they were arranged around one big table made up of the smaller ones, with beautiful linens and a few very tasteful tea-related decorations. Saito was already seated at the head of the table, and there were spaces all around for Tadashi at his right, Arthur and Eames at his left, plus Robert, Ariadne, Yusuf, and Mrs. Tarron arrayed down that side of the table. Tadashi shared their side with Saito's personal guests, which were mostly family when introduced, plus one hopeful-looking protege down at the end across from Mrs. Tarron.

Arthur and Eames were both wearing the trousers from their new suits along with shirts and coats. Arthur got to show off his ribcage shirt, while Eames wore the white shirt with black peacock feathers printed on it, so they matched as much as they ever did. They'd left the jackets at home as irrelevant under their winter coats, so they rolled up their sleeves as they sat, after shaking hands with both Saito and Nash.

Tadashi stood up as Nash's waiters came out bearing their first course, looking proud and a little nervous. They were wearing another gorgeous outfit, this one in soft greens. Their trousers were an amazing plaid with threads of shimmery gold, their shirt a muted green with a pattern of leaves on it in brighter shade, and they wore a velvet waistcoat the bold green of fresh matcha. They had forgone a scarf today in favour of a choker made of gold-edged pieces of broken celadon pottery that made their throat look slender and took attention away from their Adam's apple, and had a matching bracelet on one wrist.

Even Ariadne had dressed up a little, wearing a beautifully hand-knit sweater dress over brightly coloured tights with a statement necklace to match. Yusuf was practically dying, but it was one of Saito's female relatives who had clearly caught Ariadne's eye, and vice versa. 

Everyone was presented with a small plate and an aperitif glass, the foam on top looking happily familiar. Tadashi held up their glass and said proudly, "A toast to opportunities, art forms of all kinds, and the bonds of friendship and family."

"Here, here!" said Eames cheerfully, and they all raised their glasses before downing the single shot, froth and all. While it was indeed the pu-erh foam they'd been served two dinners ago, this time Nash had paired it with the pear liqueur from last time. Sounds of pure culinary pleasure echoed around the table as people took in the melange of flavours, and Eames shamelessly licked the foam off his glass. "Oh, that's even better together."

"I thought so," said Nash impishly. He'd shared a shot, too, but would likely vanish back to the kitchen for most of the meal. "Tonight's dinner is inspired by both Arthur's teas for Eames, and my own desire to perfect my tea menu before I move on to something else."

Everyone took that as their cue to eat the little puff pastry in front of them, which turned out to be the papaya pastry from last time, though the green 'sugar' crystals were something different this time, or perhaps just more. There was a soft spice lurking around the edges that hadn't been there last time, and it really brought the whole mouthful from delicious to nirvana.

"You are going to ruin me for all other food," said Arthur, "and that is not a complaint."

Nash laughed and accepted a rain of compliments before letting the guests take the stage. Tadashi had sat after their toast, and a babble of conversation about the food was going around the table, as most of the people there didn't have the benefit of having experienced both the inspiration and previous iterations of the meal the way Arthur and Eames had.

"Love that outfit, poppet," said Eames, shooting her a wink past Robert.

Ariadne preened. "It's my own pattern. I'm still doing the sizing and stuff but I'm going to release it with a ton of variations for women of, you know, different proportions and curves."

"Ooh, that's a brilliant idea," said Eames.

Arthur cleared his throat. "You two can talk about it tomorrow, don't make poor Robert suffer through knitting designer shop talk."

Robert shot Arthur a sheepish, grateful smile. "It's fine, I'm sure I can find something to talk about. It really is a lovely dress."

"Thanks," said Ariadne. "Tadashi's been encouraging me to step up my game with their fashion choices, not to mention Arthur."

Arthur snorted. "Poor Eames, no one appreciates his very special fashion sense."

"You appreciate me," said Eames, putting as much innuendo into his tone as possible and making Tadashi go a touch pink. Saito was mostly inscrutable, though Eames had always gotten the impression he found something that pleased him in their relationship.

Arthur kissed him softly. "I do appreciate you," he said. "Just not that one yellow shirt."

Laughter tickled through their end of the table, and the conversations broke again when the waiters came out with their next course. Nash had swapped the tea-injected duck eggs for a trio of quail eggs, each of which had a different tea and spice mix in it, from sweet to savoury to one that was a delightfully smoky surprise. Arthur identified the teas for them as they ate, each soft-boiled treat a perfect mouthful on a miniature toasted crostini brushed with tea oil.

"This is good," said Arthur with a sigh, "but I admit I really liked the richness of the duck egg with that Lapsang Souchong."

"Lighter is better at this point in the meal," said Saito, looking contemplative. "I admit, I would have liked to taste the other as well."

"Another time," said Nash, peeking out of the door. "I think they'd make interesting street food, to be honest, different than the traditional tea eggs but still delicious."

"I look forward to receiving a delivery and an invoice," said Saito with a chuckle.

"Us, too," added Eames. "And Robert's making puppy eyes here."

"Just bring enough to the shop," said Arthur with a laugh. "Assuming you do make more."

Nash looked pleased. "I'll see what I can do," he said, vanishing back into the kitchen to let out another wave of food. 

It looked like soup, but turned out to be some kind of aspic that melted in Eames' mouth into a cool, strange palate cleanser of astringent green tea. There were whole thyme leaves in the gel that had somehow kept their flavour out of the gelatine, so each one was a burst of strong herb between his teeth or on the back of his palate. "Oh, I remember this," said Arthur. "It was spherified last time, remember? It looked like fish eggs with a thyme leaf in every sphere."

"Oh right," said Eames. "Yeah, I like this texture better, though the fish egg thing was pretty fun. I remember this cuppa, too, the way the thyme didn't really hit right away but then it took over and left me refreshed."

The serving was small enough that the astringency was a benefit instead of a detriment, and they were all brought out tall glasses of bubbling cocktails, something fizzy and smoky and fascinating that Eames remembered from the first time. There was a tea-jerked lamb course paired with mint tea, the flower salad that was just as delicate and amazing as Eames remembered, and nearly a dozen other amazing treats.

"This is one Tadashi's inspirations," said Nash, coming out with one course. "I believe the description given was, 'I feel very green today despite the pink,' which Arthur passed along to me along with the ingredients."

Tadashi was blushing adorably as everyone was served a fantastical green creation that looked like it could be sweet or savoury. The swirls of frozen something were three beautiful shades of green, each one served on its own silver spoon. Eames ate the first and was given a burst of lime and chilli and cilantro in avocado, with a rich tea adding fascinating bottom notes to the creamy-bright mouthful.

Eames took a sip of the accompanying cocktail, a green tea liqueur matched with cream and gin, which was strange and fascinating all by itself. He sipped water after that to clear his palate and went for the second spoonful, which was a strong, almost bitter matcha laced with herbal notes for another savoury morsel. "Darling, you are going to have to let me try the tea that goes with these," he said to Arthur, after another sip of his drink.

"Just ask Tadashi," said Arthur, looking very proud indeed.

Tadashi was busy trying this deconstruction of their own creation, their face full of joy and curiosity that warred with embarrassed pride. They often got the former when trying Arthur's teas, but the latter was new and fitting for such a talented student.

"I will also have to request a cup," said Saito, which got a look of wide-eyed anxiety from Tadashi.

"We'll make up a pot for the group tomorrow afternoon," said Arthur with a nod. "A big one."

"Yes, sir," said Tadashi, ducking their head and bowing slightly. "I remember the formula, I believe."

"I wrote out the card for Mrs. Tarron," said Arthur. "I can remind you."

Eames looked over to see Mrs. Tarron happy as a clam chatting with Tadashi's relatives, exclaiming over their teas and their clothes and their wonderful suitability to the position of Arthur's apprentice.

Then he took up the third spoon and tasted it, getting a hit of the genmaicha tea that he quite loved with its roasted brown rice, swirled with a salty burnt sugar taste that he thought might be dulce de leche. "Mmm, delicious," he said, savouring it to the last. "I think that was my favourite, but now I'm dying for the tea version."

"Nash has elevated my work," said Tadashi, getting that wide-eyed look back. "Please do not be too disappointed."

"Actually the tea was really lovely," protested Mrs. Tarron. "Green through and through, and perfect with the cream and raw sugar that you put in."

"I, ah, thank you," stammered Tadashi, pink to their ears now and looking very adorable indeed.

Nash beamed. "I'm glad you approve of my interpretation, then," he said, looking very pleased with himself. "Dessert is three courses and coming up next, including two of Arthur's creations and Tadashi's debut contribution."

"Oh, I can't wait!" said Eames, delighted all over again.

"Just so," said Nash, going back into the kitchen with a wink. The servers came out after he vanished, gathering up the plates and giving everyone fresh tableware and more water before the first dessert course could come out.

The first one was a return of the pearls of matcha ice cream floating in the pine-laced black tea, refined and, Eames thought, made more complex by using Arthur's original pine-tea formula from so long ago. It was delicious and fun and a big hit around the table, setting the stage for the second dessert.

A bowl of bright crystals was set in front of each of them, like some dragon's hoard, followed by a sprinkling of shimmering powder on top. Eames, fearless as always, dug in with the provided spoon, teasing off one crystal and popping it into his mouth. The wafer-thin sugar coating cracked and burst, flooding his mouth with a fruity-smoky flavour that was instantly familiar. "It's the fun tea!"

Tadashi immediately tried some themselves and grinned in recognition. "It is, almost exactly as we made it."

Nash hadn't changed the formula other than the colour and shape, and the bright zings of citrus and fruit had been a delightful callback to that first day, wreathed in smoky vanilla that Eames thought might actually have been in the lustre dust. Eames had another, each one just big enough to be worth swallowing, feeling like some sort of mythical beast devouring a plate of jewels as he went.

"I am so, so delighted by this," said Eames, grinning at Arthur.

"Me, too," said Arthur, stealing a kiss. "I would serve this in my shop if I could."

"You know..." began Saito, looking amused and rather proprietary.

Arthur chuckled. "Eames has been on me to put in a sweets counter for ages, and I'm afraid he's got much more convincing methods of persuasion than you, Mr. Saito."

Eames shrugged. "He's adamant that the tea stand on its own in his shop."

"As he should be," said Tadashi, but they were smiling rather than indignant, glowing despite the continued pink of blush across their fine cheekbones.

The final dessert course was as messy as the second had been gorgeous; thin sheets of this and that were stacked haphazardly on plates with lumps poking up between the layers. Eames dug in like pancakes and popped some in his mouth, letting everything melt on his tongue and feeling well-rewarded for his bravery. There were gel sheets flavoured with various teas, thinly-cooked crepes with spices in the batter, and some herbal-sweet layers that Eames couldn't quite identify even after so many meals here. Spherified bursts of flowers or heat or sweetness hid among the layers to add yet more surprises to what was quite the most complex dish of the night.

Somehow, despite all the warring tastes and textures, it all came together into a delightful melange rather than a hot mess. Eames found himself eagerly working his way through the tragically small plate of pudding, and he kept having to slow himself down to savour the bite he was on before letting himself move on to the next.

"Nash is a crazy man, and I love this," said Arthur, beaming. "It's like some essential ingredient from each of a bunch of teas that he somehow made all work together."

When Nash emerged a few minutes later bearing a tray of the final digestif, he was met with applause from all around the table. Even Saito clapped politely but sincerely, favouring Nash with a small smile. "I am very glad to have arranged for this dinner," he said.

Nash grinned and gave him the first tiny glass. "I'm always glad to do these dinners for you and your guests," he said, moving around the table and ending by handing the second-to-last glass to Tadashi while taking up the last one for himself. "Here's to the creativity and innovation that comes from cooperation."

They all saluted and drank off their single sips, getting a hit of concentrated black tea and very little else, rich and strong as coffee with a sweet liqueur base that merely supported the true flavour. Nash went around collecting cups and congratulations together, basking in the praise. His servers came to get the tray and give everyone fresh teacups; Tadashi was given the tray with a pot big enough for the lot of them, a carafe in which to pour the brewed tea, and a cordless kettle to boil fresh water for each steeping.

"This is Arthur's favourite pu-erh, which can be steeped several times, so feel free to all enjoy and chat. Arthur, make sure you guys have a reservation before you go, I'm going to want to show off when I move on to the next menu."

Arthur laughed. "Will do. And you keep coming by the shop so Tadashi and I can show off our creations."

"Will do," said Nash. He congratulated Tadashi one more time and vanished back into the kitchen, possibly to help clean but, Eames suspected, to escape the burden of conversation with so many people.

Tadashi moved gracefully as they prepared the tea for the group, and even stood to pour, though the server offered to take over that task. Eames leaned into Arthur and watched, a smile familiar on his lips. "You did a good thing with this one."

"I'm trying to, anyway," said Arthur, kissing Eames' hair before turning to his apprentice. "Thank you."

Tadashi had begun with Saito, and was going down their side of the table so they could end with their own cup. "I should be thanking you, Arthur-sensei." They poured for Eames next, nodding at his absent thanks, and moved on down the line.

Once everyone had tea, they all took a sip, large or small, gingerly or boldly as was their wont. The taste of the tea came with a flood of happy memories this time, from their previous meals here to the few times Arthur had shared it with Eames at home. There had been one memorable morning off where Arthur brought everything including the kettle into the bedroom and Eames had thanked him very personally between each fresh pot.

Eames hummed in delight and gave Arthur a soft kiss. "So, dinner for two again, or should we try to sneak a whole corner of the place for us and our friends?"

At Ariadne's hopeful look, it was Robert who blurted, "I don't mind splitting the check. I mean, if not everyone can afford to come otherwise."

Arthur smiled warmly and nodded. "We'll make it for everyone that wants to join us, then, and you and Eames can work out the money."

Eames nodded. "That sounds like a perfect treat for all of us, Robert, thank you."

The conversation wound on around them while Eames relaxed into Arthur and sipped his tea, letting his organised lover set up the date and figure out who all would want to come. Eames let the joy of the food and friendships, both old and new, permeate his senses with the nutty first brew of the tea. There would be other meals, other cups, and even other people, but just now he wanted to bask in the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one left! sooooooon.


	17. Chapter 17

To celebrate Eames' sock book making its long-awaited debut a few weeks later, Arthur took it upon himself to arrange a little after-hours party at Specificity. The usual suspects were in attendance, plus Dom and her wife Mal, Mrs. Tarron, Nash, and even a few fans. Arthur had laid out a display of copies of _Well-Heeled_ on their usual table, along with some signing pens. There was food that was clearly Nash's doing spread out on one of the tables, and Tadashi was behind the counter making them all a big pot of their 'very green' tea. It had become a customer favourite once word got out, and it was perfect to celebrate everything Eames' life had become.

"Darling," said Eames, snuggling up to Arthur, resplendent in his skull trousers, shirt, and waistcoat. "You went all out for me."

"Of course I did," said Arthur, tugging him in for a kiss. "Your struggles with this book brought you to me."

One of the fans came over, looking bright and cheerful and fortunately not at all jealous. "So you're the man that finally stole our BAE's heart, hm?"

"I am," said Arthur, holding out his hand to shake. "Arthur."

"Pinky," she said, shaking and then gesturing to her gorgeous hair in a pink ombre that suited her Irish-pale complexion.

Eames shook her hand as well. "Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure if anyone would be interested, honestly." He'd sent a message to the head of BAE's baes to offer a few invitations to local fans more as a matter of form than out of any expectation.

"Are you kidding? You never do signings, so this is my only chance," she said brightly. She tugged up a trouser leg and showed off her socks, his Cloud City pattern in a sunset-swirl of pinks and purples with just a hint of orange. "I bought the download and marathon-knit these just for today."

"Oh, I love that yarn," said Arthur, bending down to look and giving Eames a lovely view of his own. "Eames, why don't I have sunset socks?"

"I've been busy making you more skulls," said Eames teasingly. "I can make you some sunset socks, though I rather think I'll go more golden than pink."

They started a discussion of colourways and yarn choices which brought several of the other knitters over. Arthur wandered off only to return with food and drink for the both of them. Eames let himself be lured over to his table to sit and eat, not only Nash's new tea-injected duck eggs but several other twists on street food, a tender sous vide satay and some sort of magnificent take on elephant ears, sugar-coated fried dough that was worlds above what he used to eat at the circus as a kid.

The green tea had been refined to perfection, a delicious genmaicha with its roasted brown rice taste to which they had added dried lime, several green herbs, and finally whisked-in matcha that they added to each cup after the fact, along with a sprinkling of brown sugar. The earthy notes of rice and molasses grounded the brightness of the green herbs and citrus, and the matcha's bitterness tied it all together in that indefinable way that marked the best of Arthur's -- and now Tadashi's -- creations.

"So, are these the famous suits?" asked one of the other fans, a butch dandy of indeterminate gender named Jonquil.

"Part of them, anyway," said Eames with a grin. He was wearing his peacock sweater and the McQueen shirt with its embroidered collar to match the trousers. Plus, of course, socks that he'd knitted to match. "We decided the full ensembles are best saved for more formal occasions."

"Arthur would outshine us all, otherwise." Tadashi joined them with a smile, sporting a pair of Eames socks of their own, a two-colour design from Eames' book in beautiful periwinkle and jade. They had been Eames' thank-you gift for agreeing to help with the party, and generally for making Arthur's work life less stressful by having someone to work while he took his breaks. The rest of Tadashi's ensemble matched, adding in a bit of robin's egg blue to tie together the other colours, and jade accessories that were both elegant and flamboyant.

"You're pretty shiny yourself," said Eames cheerfully.

Arthur grinned, too. "I still love that you found an outfit for the socks."

Tadashi preened just a little, growing used to the praise the two of them gave so freely. "They deserved it, I can see why Arthur prizes his."

Eames preened quite a bit more, as he was a shameless lover of all compliments and praise directed his way. "I'm certain you could get Ariadne to knit you a pair, too, if you asked."

Yusuf came over with a pout on his face. "When will I rate some Eames knitwear?"

They all cracked up at that, even Yusuf. "I suppose you were instrumental in getting Arthur to appreciate the finer aspects of my physique. I'll see if I can find time in my schedule."

"Hah! I knew it was worth saving that link," said Yusuf, looking smug. "I will cherish them always and not spill any chemicals on them."

"I'll pretend I believe you about that latter," said Eames genially. He nibbled on the food Arthur had brought him, leaned shamelessly into Arthur's space, and signed anything the fans brought over -- fortunately all books or pattern printouts, as he had no idea how he'd sign any actual knitwear.

Eames was happy to find out that BAE's baes were, in fact, a cheerful bunch of knitting nerds who appreciated his style and the way he wrote his patterns with a lot of optional details, even if it irritated Ariadne when she was editing them.

Eames got up to refill his plate, leaving Arthur deep in discussion with another of his fans about larger projects and how to support his knitter in doing them, and thus getting more sweaters for himself.

"Congratulations," said Saito, who was also getting seconds. He'd shown up late and seemed mostly interested in the refreshments, but Eames didn't mind.

"Thank you. This book so long getting done, the next one's going to be hot on its heels," said Eames. 

The food was holding out pretty well, though the elephant ears were getting low, and Eames spotted Nash slipping into the back kitchen presumably to produce more. He'd have to add Nash to his growing list of future sock recipients.

"For all that your professional ambitions are modest, you do succeed at the things which matter to you," Saito replied.

Eames was surprised into beaming. "That's quite a compliment, coming from you. I take it you're less worried about losing Arthur and his perfect sencha these days?"

Saito returned a small, satisfied smile. "Precisely."

Eames refilled his plate with enough for Arthur, snagging a fresh elephant ear or three off Nash when he reappeared with a basket of them. "Everything is wonderful and perfect for a party," said Eames. "I can't believe you agreed to do this, and I will pay every penny of the bill you send."

"It's fun," said Nash, "but I'll still bill you." He leaned in and said softly, "It's giving my kitchen staff a chance to do their own menu for a night."

"Oh, brilliant," said Eames. "I suppose eventually the little birds will want to spread their wings and all that."

"Plus a night off sometimes will be welcome," said Nash with a laugh. "This is mostly a party for me, with a little bit of work keeping the table stocked."

"Good," said Eames, preparing to shove an entire duck egg in his mouth. "I'd hate for you to feel like we only wanted you here for your amazing food." He was teasing, a little, but also sincerely glad that Arthur's genius had given him a chance to be actual friends with Nash instead of acquaintances of an uneasy past.

Nash laughed and shook his head, patting Eames on the shoulder, but after he'd refilled the refreshments he joined them at their table and took up a thread of conversation with Arthur about socks that got the whole group going all over again.

As a celebration of all of their professional ambitions, it was a good way to start his second year with Arthur -- sharing Nash's food, Arthur and Tadashi's teas, his own knitwear, and the company of friends both old and new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, beautiful friends!
> 
> Thank you for all your kindness that's kept me on track to finish & post this baby! Especially to kate_the_reader, whose enthusiasm for boys in suits brought this to fruition.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE do NOT add any of my fic to GoodReads! What the actual fuck are you thinking?!?!?!?!?


End file.
